To Fall for Somebody New
by owlwayssandforever
Summary: A collection of Golden Trio/Lightning Era one-shots.
1. I Keep Bleeding

**I Keep Bleeding**

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Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry April Auction - Day 1, Auction 2  
Prompt - [Dialogue] "Let me eat my cake and cry in peace, please."  
Hogwarts School Insane Prompt Challenge | House: Gryffindor | Prompt: 862 - [genre] Hurt/Comfort

Summary - Hermione struggles to come to terms with her emotions until a friend offers some advice.

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Hermione returned to the Gryffindor common room after a long day, rubbing at the back of her neck with her hand and trying to ease some of the tension that was there. She was exhausted from studying so much - somehow the coursework had gotten even harder this year, which she hadn't really thought was possible after OWLs. And it didn't help that Harry was using that stupid book to show her up in Potions. Honestly, wasn't it enough that he was the best student in Defense Against the Dark Arts by a kilometre, did he have to try to best her at Potions too? It was infuriating. And with Ronald being an absolute arse… well, being irritated all the time really did drain a person.

She mumbled the password and barely let the portrait hole swing open before edging through, exhaustion pulling at her limbs and her mind. Her ears were assaulted with a cacophony of shrieking and laughter and whooping. Someone thrust a piece of cake at her, and Hermione took it without even looking. A rush of purple and pink caught her eye and Hermione finally took stock of the room, noting a crowd of people - mostly girls, and Ron - gathered around Lavender Brown. She had a birthday hat perched on top of her curls and pink and purple streamers were floating through the air. Hermione sighed heavily - this was the last place she wanted to be today.

Wearily, Hermione climbed the dormitory stairs until she reached the little terrace on top of Gryffindor Tower. It was almost always a quiet place to be alone, since few Gryffindors had figured out the trick to get through the door. (You had to whisper to it your most courageous deed of the day. And somehow it always knew if you were lying.)

"I stayed when they sat down with Harry and I at breakfast," she whispered, her heart clenching as she revealed her secret to the door.

With a quiet groan, the door swung open, allowing her to pass. She stepped up onto the stone terrace, feeling the cool air calm her flushed skin. As she walked over to the parapet, Hermione felt anger well up within her, and she wanted to throw the piece of cake in her hands over the wall. Instead, she turned her back to the wall, sliding down until she was sitting on the ground, legs curled beneath her.

Unbidden, tears started to slip down her cheeks, and Hermione was simply too tired to fight them. She had been pushing down her anger and frustration and _hurt_ for weeks, and she was just tired of it. She just wished that her friends would, just this once, care about her feelings as much as she always cared about theirs.

Another groan of hinges caught Hermione's attention and she looked up to see red hair visible through the slowly widening gap. She stiffened immediately before recognizing the red-head as Ginny and relaxing slightly.

"Hey," Ginny said quietly, "I thought you might be up here. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Hermione sniffed, looking away.

"You don't have to lie to me, you know," Ginny stated, and Hermione bristled at the implication. "I'm not stupid, I can see that you're upset. Just talk to me."

"I just feel so… so angry," she answered with a deep sigh. "Every time I see those two idiots together, I just get so mad."

"Ron and Lavender?" Ginny clarified, and Hermione nodded. "Why?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, pushing away all the thoughts swirling in her mind - thoughts about Ron and kissing him and… No.

"You like him," Ginny said, more of a statement than a question.

"Oh just let me eat my cake and cry in peace, please," Hermione snapped. She really, _really_, didn't want to talk about this.

The truth was, Hermione wasn't sure who she was most upset with. Irrationally, she was angry with Lavender, but of course the other girl really wasn't to blame in any of this. To Lavender, Ron had been a free man, completely unspoken for - why shouldn't she try to court him? Even if she had known about Hermione's feelings, it wasn't like they were friends, there was no 'girl code' between them. So it wasn't really fair to be angry with her.

Ron, on the other hand, she was furious with. She had asked him to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with her, and she'd thought he'd _understood_. But then he'd been cold and angry toward her, and she had no idea why, and then this… And she knew it wasn't like he'd cheated on her, they weren't even going out, but somehow she still felt betrayed. Every time she saw him wrapped around Lavender's thin frame, she felt like she was being stabbed in the heart. She wanted to punch something, or cry until she was as dry as a desert, or just scream until all the glass in the castle shattered. Her mind filled with self-doubt - was it because she wasn't skinny enough? Wasn't pretty enough? If she cared more about her appearance and did her hair or put on makeup, would he like her then?

That was what Hermione truly hated. The feeling of inadequacy that swept through her and completely overpowered her mind. It was terrible. She had always been so proud of herself, so sure of who she was. Even when she'd had trouble making friends that first year, she hadn't doubted her own worth, and she had told herself time and again that eventually the others would see how wonderful she was. And she genuinely believed they did, but Ron… well, apparently he only thought she was wonderful when she did his homework.

Mostly, Hermione was angry with herself. She hated that she was this person, this sad, insecure person, all because a boy didn't like her. She was angry with herself for caring so much about what Ron thought. She was angry with herself for letting this stupid crush get out of hand. _He's not that special anyway,_ she told herself, but she knew it was a lie. Ron really was wonderful. He was smart in a way that was all his own, and he was funny, and sweet, and so loyal. Just not to her, it would appear. She hated that she couldn't just move on, angry because she had no idea how to make it happen. Try as she might, she just couldn't get Ron out of her heart.

Hermione hadn't realized she was sobbing until Ginny threaded their fingers together, squeezing tightly, and laid her head on Hermione's shoulder. With deep, shuddering breaths, Hermione tried to calm herself, attempting to focus on the sensation of Ginny's thumb rubbing soothingly back and forth across her hand instead of the thoughts swirling in her mind.

"It's alright," Ginny hummed as Hermione struggled to gain control. "It's okay, he doesn't matter."

"Easy for you to say, with every guy in school chasing after you," Hermione hissed. Ginny stiffened slightly, and Hermione immediately looked mortified by her words.

"Hermione, you know I understand," she whispered, her free hand picking at a loose thread in her jeans.

"I know, I'm sorry," Hermione wailed, her hatred for herself increasing exponentially. There was something _seriously _wrong with her brain.

"Look, my brother is a peabrain, we all know that," Ginny huffed, snuggling closer to Hermione. "But if I had to try to untangle his stupid ass thought process, my guess would be this. He really does like you, we all know he does. He might not be sure about it yet, but everyone can see that it's there. But… he doesn't think he's worthy of you. And not because you're smart and he's a moron or anything like that, because I think anyone with eyes can see that you complement each other well. But he's… inexperienced, and you're not -"

Hermione gaped at her, but Ginny shook her head adamantly.

"- in his mind you're not, because you went out with Viktor, and I may have told him that you two snogged, and now McLaggen's got a thing for you, and even though he's repulsive, Ron sees that and he just thinks, 'Wow, I've got some catching up to do.' He knows that being with you would never be a fling, it would be serious, and he needs to just get a little bit of fun out of his system first. And he didn't realize that he was getting left behind. He didn't know that you'd had fun with Krum, and now he feels like he's got to get a move on, because until he does that, he won't be ready for you."

Hermione was quiet for a moment, before frustration welled up inside her again.

"But that's stupid! I don't _care _how experienced he is!" Hermione nearly shrieked, and Ginny winced at the sound. "I'd rather do everything together for the first time than have to watch him…" Her voice started to shake and she let her sentence hang, unable to complete it.

"I know that, but… Hermione, what if you hadn't gone out with Viktor?" Ginny asked, trying to make her friend understand. "Would you be eager to get into the relationship you knew was going to be _the _relationship without ever dating, or even kissing, someone else?"

"Wouldn't you trade all the time with Michael and Dean if you could've been with Harry the whole time?" Hermione replied quietly.

Ginny thought carefully for a few seconds, her eyebrows scrunching together the way they always did when she was considering something deeply.

"I don't think I would," she said at last. "Maybe when I was twelve I would have said yes, but Hermione, being with the wrong people has helped me to learn so much. I've learned about myself and what I want from a relationship, I've learned how to get better at doing the relationship thing itself, and yeah, I've learned about the physical stuff too. And somewhere down the road, when I am in whatever relationship ends up being _the one_, all those things that I've learned are going to be really valuable."

"I guess I just don't see the point in being with anyone else when you already know who that person is," Hermione answered, shaking her head.

"Well, I guess try to think of it this way," Ginny offered, tilting her head a little as she tried to reframe the situation. "Ron just needs a little more time to become that person. He'll get there, and then you two can ride into the sunset together, but he's still growing and developing, and he's just not quite there yet. So I think, for now, you just have to be patient."

"Patience has never been my strong suit," Hermione sighed.

"I know, but this time it has to be," Ginny shrugged.

"How do you know so much about this stuff?" Hermione mused, leaning into her friend.

"It's all those failed relationships," she joked, laughing wryly. "They make me wise."

"It doesn't really hurt any less," Hermione stated, her chest still aching.

"No, it doesn't," Ginny agreed.

They sat there for a while, leaning on each other and picking at the slice of cake with their fingers, not really caring how messy they got. It was nice, in a way, to just sit in the open air under the velvet sky, with just the two of them. It was peaceful, and relaxed, and eventually Hermione's pain faded into the background.

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The next morning, Hermione went down to breakfast feeling more at peace and relaxed than she had in weeks. Until she got to the Great Hall and saw Lavender perched on Ron's lap, running her fingers through his hair and looking adoringly at him. The familiar jolt of pain surged through her like an electric shock. But as she walked past, she noticed that Ron looked up at her briefly, his blue eyes following her, boring into her like he was trying to evaluate the damage he was doing.

He wants to make sure he's getting what he needs without hurting me too much, Hermione thought to herself, keeping Ginny's words from the night before in mind. They didn't really make the situation hurt any less, but somehow it was easier to deal with it now.

She offered Ron a small, tentative smile, a peace offering of sorts. He grinned, and Hermione thought he might have even given a small nod of acknowledgement before turning his attention back to Lavender and Parvati.

She slid into the seat across from Harry, still feeling a bit lighter than she did most mornings. Ginny reached around behind Dean's back to grab Hermione's hand and give it a quick squeeze. Sometimes, Hermione supposed, you just needed to borrow a little bit of strength from your companions. It was a good thing she had some pretty bad ass friends.


	2. Being Blue is Better (Than Being Over It

**Being Blue is Better (Than Being Over It)**

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**A/N:** _Modern, non-magic AU._

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Gryffindor House, April Auction Challenge Day 11, Auction 3  
Prompt: [Genre] Tragedy_

**Hogwarts School Insane Prompt Challenge | House:**_ Gryffindor **| Prompt: **438 [Occasion] Death_

_**Warnings**: Major character death, depictions of violence_

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"Hey Remus."

He looked up in surprise as Mary slid into the seat across from him, a soft smile gracing her face. He smiled weakly at her, exhaustion dulling his emotions, a far too common state for him these days.

"Hi Mary," he answered, looking at her carefully. Something seemed different about her, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

She was quiet for a few minutes, pulling out one of her textbooks, and Remus returned to the paper he was supposed to be writing, not that he was having much luck with it. Across from him, Mary seemed somewhat on edge, fidgeting with her fingers and bouncing her leg. She reminded him vaguely of Sirius, always on the move. Remus' heart squeezed sharply, but he swallowed the pain and turned his attention back to his homework.

"I was wondering," Mary began hesitantly, "if you might want to get a drink with me sometime?"

Remus' head snapped up in surprise, too fast, and his hand reached up automatically to rub the back of his neck. He looked at her, tried to really take her in, but he couldn't seem to see _her_. Mary's eyes were the same blue-grey as Sirius', her dark hair was just as curly as his. He blinked a few times, trying to remind himself that she sat in front of him, not Sirius.

"I… that's really nice of you, but I'm not sure…" Remus struggled to find the right words, color rising in his cheeks. "I just don't think that I'm really -"

"You don't like me like that," Mary said, her smile turning into something sad. "It's okay. It was worth asking."

"I'm sorry, Mary," Remus answered, guilt tightening in his belly. "It's not that I don't like you, it's just that I…"

He let his sentence drop, not wanting to say the rest of the words. _It's just that I'm in love with Sirius, and I think I probably always will be. _He squeezed his eyes shut and fisted his fingers in his hair, wishing his mind would just _shut up_.

"You like someone else," Mary replied simply. "It's Sirius, isn't it?"

Remus sighed heavily, but he didn't answer. He just couldn't bear to confirm her thoughts. He wished more than anything that it wasn't the case, he wished he could just get over his feelings and go out with Mary. Really, he should be able to. Mary was smart, beautiful, and kind. The only reason she didn't have the whole school falling at her feet was because she was quiet, and kept mostly to herself, which didn't bother Remus at all. He should be crazy for her, _why couldn't he just like her?_

Mary reached out and placed her hand on his arm in a comforting gesture before she stood up and walked away, leaving him alone in the library with his misery.

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Remus sat alone at the top of the hill overlooking the school grounds. The castle they called home stood grandiose behind him, and to his left was the soccer field. But in front of him was a vast, sloping lawn leading down to the lake, dark evergreens crowding the far shore. He liked sitting here when he wanted to think or be alone. It was peaceful, and students rarely came up here. There was a more direct path down to the field, and people seldom went down to the lake - when they did, they usually cut down by the greenhouses instead.

It was chilly, not necessarily cold itself but windy - the breeze reached out and ruffled his hair with its invisible fingers, and even his eyelashes fluttered in response. Remus liked the cold. It felt weirdly relaxing, as if the chill that turned his skin to ice could calm his fevered mind as well. His cheeks were turning pink and he couldn't feel the tip of his nose anymore, but somehow that felt right at the moment.

James sat down beside Remus, leaning back on his hands and looking up to the sky. He sat quietly for a few minutes, trying to respect his friend's desire for peace and silently hoping that Remus would talk first and share what was on his mind. But he remained quiet, eyes locked on the horizon.

"So I heard Mary asked you out," James said at last, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Who told you that?" Remus asked, exhaustion evident in his voice.

"Marlene. She nearly bit my head off about the whole thing too."

"Was Mary upset?"

"Nah, she seemed fine," James shrugged. "I think Marlene's pride was hurt on her behalf though. She was pretty fired up, kept poking me in the chest and asking why you thought you could do better than Mary."

"I don't," Remus answered. "You know I don't, Mary's amazing, but it's just not right."

"You're still hung up on Sirius," James replied, stating it like the fact it was.

Remus didn't answer, releasing a long breath as he stared at the line of trees. His heart was clenching painfully, and though he tried to ignore it, he felt like someone was reaching into his chest and shredding his soul with inch-long nails.

"It's been almost a year," James said quietly. "You have to move on eventually."

Remus growled deep in his chest, low and quiet.

"If it was Lily, would you just _move on_?" he hissed, anger surging through him.

"Yeah, I think I would, in time," James answered quietly. "I know she would never want me to sit and pine for her forever. He's gone, Ree, and it's time to find a way to be happy somehow. It's what Sirius would want."

"The dead don't get to want things," Remus cried, his voice strangled by anguish. "He can't want me to move on or pine or anything! He can't want anymore! He wanted me and then some stupid fucking car hit his and now he can't want… he can't…"

Sobs started to shudder through his body, and Remus let them wreck him like an earthquake splitting the fault lines in his heart. He spent so much energy trying to hold himself together every day, trying not to let anybody see the cracks in his soul that just couldn't heal. But it was only James here now, and he'd already seen the damage.

"I'm the only one left who gets to want anything, and I want him," Remus heaved. "I want him back, I want him alive, I want the future we were supposed to have together. So if you can tell me how to stop wanting all those things, then go right ahead, because I'd love to not wake up every morning and have my heart carved out when I remember that all those things are gone now, when I remember that _he's_ gone."

"I don't know," James whispered, quiet tears running down his cheeks.

"Yeah," Remus huffed, suddenly feeling spent.

"I'm sorry," James said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "I don't know how to get there, but I just don't want you to feel like this forever. I'm not…" he swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "You're always going to miss him, we all are, that's never gonna change. But I'm hoping it gets easier to miss him."

"I don't know if it will," Remus confessed, leaning his head on his friend's shoulder.

They sat like that for a while, until the sun began to disappear behind the forest and it became too cold to stay outside any longer. James pulled Remus to his feet and steered him toward the dining hall, hoping that their friends could help him feel better, at least for a few minutes.

o . o . o

Remus drifted off into a fitful sleep that night. His eyes had barely closed before he saw flames dancing across the back of his lids.

_The sound of screeching metal tore through the air, and Remus looked up from his spot on the park bench. He could see two cars collide, crunching together sickeningly. One of them - a light blue Ford Anglia - flipped over onto its top, skidding across the sidewalk until it hit the wall of the shops across the street. Remus froze. A light blue Ford Anglia. The exact same kind of car that Sirius drove. _

_He leapt off the bench and ran toward the crash, but he was still several meters away when the blue car burst into flames. They reached toward the sky with amber fingers, swallowing the little car whole. There was no way anyone in that car survived. Silently screaming prayers in his mind, Remus reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, dialing Sirius' number. His fingers fumbled with fear, and he had to erase the number and try again three times before he finally got it right. _

_The phone rang and rang, but Sirius never picked up._

_Remus knew what it meant - he had known the second he realized what type of car it was, but he refused to admit the truth. He hung up and dialed again, and then again. He never stopped dialing as the firefighters arrived on the scene. Remus sank to his knees as he watched them douse the flames with their hoses, tears streaming down his face. The fire stopped, and Remus hit redial again. They pulled a charred body from the vehicle, and he had retched as he watched, but his fingers never stopped hitting redial. _

_A policeman saw him and approached, squatting next to him and laying a hand on his back. Remus supposed the gesture would have been reassuring, but he had just watched someone - probably his best friend - burn to death, and no gesture could ever be comforting after that._

"_The car was registered to a Sirius Black, do you know him?" the policeman asked, and Remus let out a strangled sob._

"_It can't be him, it can't be him," he repeated, wrapping his arms tightly across his chest. Maybe if he held on hard enough, he wouldn't fall to pieces._

"_Did Mr. Black have a reason to be in this area?" the policeman continued gently, trying to get the information he needed without pushing Remus too hard._

"_We're supposed to be meeting for lunch," he whispered, his heart tearing to pieces._

"_Okay," the policeman said kindly. "Okay, come with me now, it'll be alright."_

Remus woke with sweat beading on his forehead and bile choking his throat. Nothing was okay, nothing would ever be okay again. How could it be, when Sirius was gone forever? He had lost the love of his life that day, and there was no one who could ever replace him.

Even so, Remus knew that something had to change. He couldn't keep waking up like this, with his heart broken into pieces and his mind more tired than when he fell asleep. He would kill himself if he kept trying to go on like this. Remus had no idea how to get there, but he had to find a way to a better mindset. This just wasn't working anymore.

He dressed sluggishly and got ready for classes, considering what he should do. His mind kept circling back around to one person - Mary. When he made his way down to the dining hall for breakfast, he cast his eyes around until he found her, sitting by herself as she waited for Marlene and Dorcas to join her. Remus slid into the seat across from her, trying to smile warmly. It felt like such an unfamiliar expression after the past year.

"Hi," he said, hoping she wouldn't be too upset with him.

"Hi," she echoed, smiling slightly.

"So, I was wondering if I could change my mind about those drinks?" Remus asked hesitantly. "Maybe as friends, or at least taking things slow? I don't really know what I want, or what I'm ready for, but I think… I think I need you."


	3. Rain Delay

**House**: _Ravenclaw_ | **Year**: _1_ | **Category**: _Drabble_ | **Prompt**: _[Event] Being late for their own wedding_ | **Word Count**: _947_

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, April Auction Prompt  
Gryffindor House, Day 16 Auction 4, Prompt: [Weather] Drizzle  
Hogwarts School Insane Prompt Challenge | House: Gryffindor | Prompt: 432 - Occasion - Wedding

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"What's taking so long?" Katie asked, pacing across the floor in her dressing room. Her eyes flickered to the window, the soft patter of rain on the glass attracting her attention.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Angelina replied, glancing toward the door. The wedding coordinator was supposed to come get them all at four o'clock, when it was time for the procession to start, but it was ten minutes past four and she still hadn't showed up.

"You don't think…" Katie started to say, wringing her hands.

"No, there's no way he changed his mind, he's not that stupid," Angelina huffed. If Fred had decided to bail last minute, then he was beyond idiotic (and a dead man).

"Oh my god! I wasn't even thinking that!" Katie gasped, anxiety and worry emanating from her in waves. "I was going to say what if something happened to him?"

"Oops," Angelina said, feeling a little bit guilty. She had totally misread that. "I'm sure it's nothing, just people showing up late - the usual delays. Fred's probably standing up at the altar anxious for _you_ to walk down the aisle."

o . o . o

"Ronald, where is your brother?" Molly hissed, hurrying over to him.

"No idea," Ron shrugged.

"Am I the only one concerned that this wedding was supposed to start _fifteen_ minutes ago and the groom _still_ hasn't arrived?" she huffed, hands on her hips.

"Katie's probably pretty worried about it," Ron mumbled, not wanting to be part of whatever situation was going on _at all_.

"You're not too old to have your ears boxed, young man," Molly warned, and Ron immediately took a step away.

As Molly opened her mouth to speak again, the outer doors of the chapel opened, and a red-haired young man in a grey suit rushed in, shaking water droplets from his hair.

"Fred!" Molly exclaimed, taking her son's arm and pushing him towards the inner door. "Where have you been? Oh never mind, just hurry up so we can start the procession… honestly, twenty minutes late to your own wedding -"

"Mum, no, I'm -" Fred protested, trying to resist her shoves down the aisle.

"What must Katie think, she's probably so worried, keeping her waiting, I hope you're a better husband than that," she ploughed on, completely disregarding her son's objections.

They reached the front of the chapel, next to the altar, and Molly finally released her hold on her son.

"Now, you stay here, and I'll go tell the coordinator that we're ready to start so she can fetch Katie," she commanded.

"MUM!" he hollered, demanding her attention. "I'm not Fred, I'm George."

"Good heavens," Molly whispered to herself, looking horrified. George wasn't sure whether she was more upset that she couldn't tell the difference between her sons or that she still didn't know where Fred was.

"It started to drizzle, and when Fred saw, he said he needed to take care of something, some sort of surprise," George explained. "I offered to handle it, but he said he had to be the one to do it, so he sent me ahead to tell you guys what was going on. Just go sit down, he should be here soon, he said it wouldn't take that long."

Molly took her seat next to Arthur and the rest of her children, Ron joining them once he was sure that all the guests had arrived. They waited rather impatiently for Fred to get there, whispers crawling among their friends and family. After what seemed like an eternity, the side door of the chapel swung open.

Fred rushed in, more than a little bit wet. He had been so preoccupied with the surprise that he had evidently forgotten to make sure he didn't end up completely sodden. He threw a thumbs up into the air to tell the wedding coordinator that they were ready to proceed, and rushed to his spot at the front of the chapel. He flashed his twin brother a grin as the music began to swell and echo through the space.

The grand doors at the back of the chapel opened and Angelina began to walk down the aisle, dark skin beautifully complemented by the buttercream dress she was wearing. George smiled widely as he saw his girlfriend walking down the aisle, thinking of a little ring he had hidden in the Burrow and a day in the not too distant future where they'd get to do this again (he hoped). He winked when she reached the front, taking her place opposite him, and she giggled quietly in response.

The doors open once more and Katie appeared in view, radiant in her white gown. Fred had never seen a sight more splendid, and his heart leapt with joy. It seemed to take an eternity for her to make her way down the aisle to him, and yet at the same time it passed in the blink of an eye, and then she was there. The most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on, and she was standing in front of him, and he was going to marry her.

"You look absolutely amazing," Fred whispered, and she smiled even wider.

"Well, I thought one of us should," she quipped, eyes darting across his damp suit and soggy hair.

Fred laughed out loud, unable to contain his mirth. She was perfect.

"I had to make sure everything was perfect," he whispered, explaining his drenched appearance.

Katie gave him a questioning look, but Fred only grinned mischievously, imagining her face when she saw the new fireworks he had created just for her, just for this day. The best day of his life.


	4. The Clearing

**House**: _Ravenclaw_ | **Year**: _1_ | **Category**: _Standard_ | **Prompt**: _[Character] Molly Weasley_ | **Word** **Count**: _1074_

**Hogwarts School April Auction Challenge**, **Day 11 Auction 1**, Prompt: _[Childhood beliefs/beings] Unicorn_

**A/N:** _For the purposes of this story, Molly is older than Gideon and Fabian, and the boys are not twins. It seems unclear as to whether or not they were older/twins according to canon, but in any case, in this story they aren't._

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"Come on, I want to show you something."

Molly pulled Gideon's hand as she tugged him from the Gryffindor table. Her little brother had been eating a late breakfast with his new friends, but Molly had been waiting five years to share this with him.

"Where are we going?" Gideon whined, pulling his hand from her grasp. He was eleven now, not a little kid anymore, and he didn't need to hold his sister's hand.

"It's a surprise," Molly grinned, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.

She walked straight out the great oak doors that formed the main entrance to the castle, her eyes closing for a brief moment as she felt the sun warm her skin. Molly set off across the grounds, Gideon trailing close behind her.

"My very first year at Hogwarts, many many moons ago," Molly teased, elbowing him lightly, "I found something pretty special. I never told anyone about it, but when I'm sad or need to think or just need something to cheer me up, I go to this place, and it never fails to make me feel better."

"What is it?" Gideon asked, his eyes alight with curiosity.

"You'll see," she said, enjoying dragging out the surprise as long as possible.

They walked through the grounds to the the Black Lake, and then skirted its shore until they were almost a third of the way around. There, hidden amongst the brush was a little dirt path, almost overgrown. Molly pushed her way through the branches and Gideon followed, looking back to find that the lake was almost completely barred from view by the foliage. They walked on, and Gideon told Molly about his first few weeks of classes and his friends and everything he hoped the year would hold. In return, Molly told him a few stories from her earlier years at Hogwarts that she had kept to herself, and he grinned happily at being privy to her secrets. It was chilly in the shade, the October air making the two of them draw their coats tighter around their bodies.

After a little while, when Gideon was beginning to drag his feet and wonder when they would reach their destination, the path opened up into a large clearing. The sun filtered through the trees, bathing the area in a magical yellow-green light. Flowers were budding on bushes around the outside of the clearing, and cherry blossom trees dotted the perimeter in full bloom.

"It's pretty," Gideon said, not entirely sure what he was supposed to be looking at.

"Just wait," Molly replied, her eyes drifting around the clearing, watching for something.

After a moment, it happened.

It began with a soft rustle, and then the bushes on the other side of the clearing began to part. From between the branches stepped the most majestic and beautiful creature Gideon had ever seen. Snow white and almost glowing with a soft light, with an immaculate golden horn, the unicorn emerged into the clearing. Gideon gasped quietly, his eyes meeting the unicorn's, and it felt as though some kind of greeting or acknowledgement passed between them. Molly smiled at the look of awe on her brother's face.

"Go on," she encouraged, nodding toward the unicorn. "Slowly."

Gideon moved forward, reaching out his hand with his palm open and outstretched. The unicorn stepped closer tentatively, it's nostrils flaring as it sniffed him. As it made its way farther into the clearing, Gideon could see a much smaller unicorn concealed behind it. The baby was a luminescent gold from head to toe, with amber eyes. It pranced out ahead of its parent, sidling up to Gideon with the confidence of a child and rubbing its nose against his palm.

"This is amazing," Gideon whispered.

"It's a safe place for them," Molly explained, moving to stand next to him. The white unicorn approached her, greeting her like an old friend. "There's some sort of magic here, so they can be more at ease - it's hard for anyone to hurt them here, even if they wanted to, although I don't know why anyone would."

"So you just come here and sit with them?" Gideon asked, stroking the baby unicorn's golden mane.

"It's peaceful," Molly answered, nodding. "And they're good companions. Sometimes they like to play, sometimes they'll just come sit with you and comfort you. They always seem to know what you need, even if you don't."

"Are there always unicorns here?" he asked, looking at her wide-eyed.

"I'm not sure," Molly admitted. "I don't think they stay here all the time, but one will always show up within a few minutes when I come here."

They stayed in the clearing for a while, Gideon running around the clearing with the baby unicorn while Molly sat on the edge with its parent, watching fondly. They could have spent hours there, but eventually their stomachs began to grumble, and they knew it was time to return to the castle. They bid farewell to the two unicorns, who turned and disappeared into the forest with happily swishing tails, and then set off on their own path back to the school.

"How many of them are there?" Gideon asked as they emerged onto the shore of the Black Lake once more.

"I don't know," Molly answered. "I'm not sure anyone does. But I don't think there can be many. Unicorns are supposed to be very rare. Hagrid's the only one I know who's seen them outside of Care of Magical Creatures class.

Gideon was quiet for a while as they walked, a pensive silence falling over them.

"Thank you for showing that to me," Gideon said after a while, looking at his sister with sincerity.

"Of course," Molly answered, smiling affectionately and giving her little brother a hug. "You're my brother, I'll share everything with you."

"What about Fabian?"

"Him too, when it's his turn," Molly laughed. Fabian would join them at Hogwarts next year, and then together, she hoped, they could show him the clearing and the unicorns, but for the moment, it was enough to share this secret with Gideon.


	5. Burnt Leather

**A/N:** _Here's a frantically written, unedited one shot featuring out faves - James and Lily. _

Hogwarts School April Auction Challenge, Day 30 Auction 1, Dialogue - "What the hell did you just say to me?"  
Hogwarts School Insane Prompt Challenge | House: Gryffindor | Prompt: 943 - Era - Marauder

* * *

o . o . o

* * *

"Evans!" James called, running out of the Potions classroom. "Hey, Evans!"

Lily was striding down the hall quickly, her head held high in defiance and annoyance. Sticky pink sap coated her robes and made her look like she was wearing a robe made from bubblegum. Against the vibrant red of her hair it was even more jarring, and all the students walking down the hall gawked at her and wrinkled their noses.

"LILY!"

James reached out to grab her elbow, but she whirled around, tugging her arm away.

"What?" she snapped, green eyes blazing.

"Look, I'm sorry about the robes thing, but I was wondering…" James ran his hand nervously through his hair, "there's a Hogsmeade trip this weekend, and I was wondering if you'd want to meet up with me at some point and have a drink?"

"What the _hell _did you just say to me?" Lily asked, her voice somehow incredulous and infuriated.

"I...just...do you want to grab a -"

"Are you seriously asking me out?" she said, her eyebrows flying up.

"Well, yeah, I -"

"After you just exploded a poorly-made amortentia potion all over me and probably ruining my robes for good, you really thought now was a good time to ask me out?" Lily fumed, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Do you want me to ask you again at a better time?" James asked, half serious and half trying to lighten the mood.

"I want you to not explode potions all over me!" she screeched, and James took a step back.

"I'm sorry, it was an accident, and I'll give you money for replacement robes if you want," James said, his forehead furrowing as his eyebrows pulled together. He didn't understand why she was so mad, and why a stupid potions accident would keep her from going out with him.

"You are _foul_," Lily seethed, turning on her heel and striding away from him.

"Evans, I don't get it," James persisted. "What did I do?"

"You think just because you're rich and attractive that everyone should forgive everything you do and fawn all over you," Lily snapped, and James looked at her in confusion.

"I think you should forgive me because it really was an accident," he answered cautiously. "And I don't want anyone to fawn over me… well, at least I don't want you to. Lily, _I _want to be the one fawning over _you_. With your consent, and not in the privacy of my own head. And trust me, Lils, up there it's pretty much just a constant cycle of _Lily's wonderful, how can I make her happy_."

Lily gaped at him, unsure of how to reply to such a genuine answer, and completely taken aback by the sentiment behind them. This was a James Potter she did not recognize. Where was the annoying jock who constantly smirked and messed up his hair? Where was the tosser who jinxed Sev at every opportunity?

"No," she said firmly, but she smiled a bit. "But you can ask me again when my robes don't smell like burnt leather. Honestly, how did Fleamont Potter end up with a son so abysmal at Potions?"

She turned and walked away, leaving James standing in the middle of the corridor, grinning from ear to ear.


	6. Coffee over Compliments

**Coffee Over Compliments**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry**  
**House:** Gryffindor  
**Prompt:** [Meet Cute] 'I was in a rush and I stole your coffee order and I got caught.'  
**Word Count:** 1253  
**Warning:** Small doses of foul language

Hogwarts School Insane Prompt Challenge | House: Gryffindor | Prompt: 480 - [Setting] Coffee Shop

* * *

o . o . o

* * *

Harry tapped his fingers against his thigh impatiently as he watched the baristas work through their long line of drinks. The sticker tape reached the floor, and every time one of them would pull a few stickers off and place them on cups, the machine would spit out more to take their place. It seemed like a cycle they would never catch up on.

He was pretty used to waiting upwards of fifteen minutes for his caramel macchiato (he didn't care if it was a "feminine" drink, it tasted _damn_ good), but today he was scheduled for a meeting with a senior MP before the start of business, and he was running way late. In truth, he hated his job, and he'd be more than happy to blow the meeting off, but he was lucky (if that was the right word) enough to come from a privileged family which afforded him a great deal of influence. It was really a waste if he didn't use that to try to do something good for the world. The idea that he was achieving something meaningful and significant was really the only way he could deal with all the intrusions of his privacy.

Harry checked his watch again. Ten minutes until his meeting, and he was still a seven minute walk away. He really couldn't wait much longer. If his drink wasn't out, maybe… maybe he would just take the next caramel macchiato that came along. After all, it could be an innocent mistake. And he knew that they would remake the other person's drink for them. The idea made him want to punch himself in the face, but he could _not _be late for a meeting with the Labour leader.

"Venti caramel macchiato for Ginny!" the barista called out, placing the large cup on the counter.

Without missing a beat, Harry snatched the cup up and spun around, moving quickly toward the door. Once he was out into the open air, he lifted the cup to his lips, ready for the surge of caffeine in his bloodstream to wake him up.

"Hey asshole!"

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, his heart freezing.

"What the fuck? You think you can just steal my coffee?"

Harry turned around, his mind reeling as he tried to figure out what to say to the fiery woman who stood before him.

"I didn't steal -"

"Check the name, bet it's mine," she spat, hands on her hips.

Harry glanced at the sticker on his cup, knowing full well that it wouldn't say his name, but willing it to with all his might. Color rose on his cheeks as he looked back up at her.

"It was an accident, I thought it was mine," Harry bluffed poorly, reaching up and adjusting his glasses nervously.

"I fucking bet it was," she replied, reaching out and wiggling her fingers in a gesture for him to hand over the drink. "Can I have my macchiato now?"

"Look, can you just take mine, it's under Harry," he pleaded. "I'm really late for an important meeting, and I can't wait any longer."

"So I should have to sit around and wait longer just because _you_ have a meeting?" she fumed, tossing her red hair back over her shoulder. "What if I have a meeting? What makes you think your life is more important than mine?"

"Because I have a meeting with Albus Dumbledore! And…" Something dawned on Harry as he spoke, giving him an odd feeling of deja vu. "And... hang on, I _know _you."

"No you don't, _Sir Potter_," she snapped.

"I'm not a knight," he argued, annoyed that she recognized him. But of course she did, who didn't?

"Could've fooled me," she muttered under her breath.

"I _do _know you," Harry replied with conviction. "You're that football player, you won the Golden Boot at the World Cup this year!"

"Well you should have a pretty good understanding of how hard I'll kick you in the nuts if you don't _give me my drink_," she hissed, glaring at him.

"It's all yours," Harry said with a smile, all thoughts of being late for his meeting gone from his mind.

o . o . o

The next day, Harry couldn't help but think about his encounter with Miss Weasley as he waited for his coffee, and the following day, and the following, for a whole week. Every day he arrived at the cafe early and bought an extra caramel macchiato, hoping that she would show up and he could make things right. Ten days (he was counting) after the initial incident, Harry finally saw her walk in again. She was as beautiful as he remembered, emanating confidence and a fierceness that could not be rivalled. He wondered if it came from knowing with absolute certainty that she was the best footballer in the world, or if it was just her natural state. She didn't give him so much as a glance as she walked past him toward the register, but Harry bounded out of his seat, carrying both the macchiatos that he had purchased.

"Miss Weasley!" he called as he caught up to her. She turned, and annoyance flickered across her features as she beheld him. "I wanted to apologize for the other day - it was quite wrong of me. I was preoccupied with my meetings, and though it doesn't excuse anything, it does perhaps offer an explanation."

Harry held out the untouched macchiato, a peace offering of sorts. Ginny saw the proffered coffee and eyed him with suspicion.

"What do you want?" she asked, not bothering to hide her irritation.

"Nothing, I just wanted to make it up to you," Harry replied, again extending the cup of coffee.

"Thank you," she replied after a moment's hesitation, accepting his offer. "And nobody calls me Miss Weasley, that's just weird. Ginny is fine."

"Nice to meet you, formally," Harry grinned, reaching out to shake her hand. "Harry is fine too. Do you have time to sit or do you need to be off?"

"No, I have a few minutes," Ginny said, giving him a smile in return. "No important meetings today?"

"Well, you know me, I've got to advise the Queen of course, but that's not until after lunch," Harry said, only half a joke. He did have a meeting with the Queen, along with a few of the other MPs from the Labour party.

They sat down at a table in the corner, far away from the door so they could both have some semblance of privacy. It was surprising to both of them how easy it was to talk to each other. Despite being from very different worlds, they both knew what it was like to live a high-profile life, and they found that they had very similar interests. Harry had been a lifelong Aston Villa fan - a trait he inherited from his father - and followed the England national teams avidly. Ginny was an outspoken activist as well as a footballer, particularly when it came to women's rights. She had been leading a campaign to get equal sponsorship for the women's league, as well as some air time on the major tv stations, and she had successfully negotiated to get the women's national team equal pay and benefits. They just clicked, and by the time they left the coffee shop, both of them were running more than a little bit late and sporting wide grins, with a plan to meet for breakfast (and coffee, naturally) over the weekend.


	7. Cinderella

Hogwarts School Insane Prompt Challenge | House: Gryffindor | Prompt: 918 - [Trait] Realistic

**Gryffindor House Internal Challenge: Disney Prompts**  
**Prompt: **Cinderella  
**Word Count: **519

* * *

o . o . o

* * *

Harry rocked back and forth in their glider, holding on to Lily tightly. She was sucking one thumb with her other hand rooted firmly in her auburn curls, eyes blinking slowly as she tried not to fall asleep.

"...she again slipped away from him, though in such a hurry that she dropped her left golden slipper upon the stairs. The prince took the shoe, and went the next day to the king his father, and said, 'I will take for my wife the lady that this golden slipper fits.'"

"Not this story again," Ginny admonished from the doorway of the nursery, one hand on her hip. "I keep telling you, it'll give her nightmares. And besides, I'm not sure I want to be teaching her from infancy that she needs a man to rescue her."

"She'll be fine," Harry denied, pressing his cheek to the top of his daughter's head. "And there are worse things than learning to accept help from others."

"Accepting help is one thing," Ginny argued, "but relying on others is entirely different."

"Ginny," Harry sighed, too tired for this fight again. He was all for raising Lily to be a strong, self-reliant woman, and Merlin knows he was a staunch feminist - how could he be married to Ginny and best friends with Hermione and not know first hand the strength of women? - but there were times that he longed for simplicity. Why couldn't a fairytale just be a fairytale and a dress just be a dress? Why did everything have to be a statement?

"Why do you like that story so much anyway?" Ginny asked. "You read it to her practically every night."

"I…" Harry paused, unsure exactly how to describe it. "I think my mum used to read it to me."

"But -"

"I know, I don't really remember it," he hastened to add. "It's more of a feeling, a sense of familiarity. It's sort of like my patronus charm - I'm not sure that it's really a memory, but it feels like one. It feels real."

"Harry," Ginny replied softly, kneeling next to the rocking chair where he sat, "of course I want your parents to have a role in Lily's childhood, but… well, don't you think this is a bit of a reach? Only I feel like there are more concrete ways to honor them than with a story that your mum may or may not have read to you and which your wife definitely hates."

"Like what?" Harry challenged. "Giving her little deer mementos? Ginny, the honest truth is that neither of us really knows much about my parents, and there isn't really anyone left that can tell us more than the most superficial details. But this is… this is something, Gin, I know it is. It has to be."

"Why would she read you Cinderella though?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "Maybe it was her favourite story. But I just know in my gut that she did, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed, pressing a soft kiss to his temple as she ran her fingers gently over Lily's head. "Okay."


	8. Hiraeth

HSW&W | House: Gryffindor | Magical & Muggle Languages, Task 1 | Prompt: Write about trying to understand a different language | Word Count: 1770

IPC #109 - [Plot Point] Language Barrier

* * *

o . o . o

* * *

**Hiraeth**

"I don't want to go, Amma," Parvati whined as she watched her mother pulling clothes and laying them carefully in a trunk. The rest of the family's things had been packed days ago, but Parvati had been stubbornly resisting. She liked their life in Jaipur, and she didn't want to go to England, especially not to go to boarding school.

Parvati picked at the embroidery on her skirt, pulling a thread loose. Honestly, she didn't even know why her mother was insisting on taking all of their clothes with them, it wasn't like she would be wearing traditional Indian dress at Hogwarts.

"Nonsense, it'll be wonderful," her mother replied without stopping her actions. "England will be nice, and you will love Hogwarts. You'll get the best education there."

"I don't care about that!" Parvati snapped, flopping backward onto her bed. "I want to stay here, with my friends, and with Nani. I don't want to leave anyone to go to school, and I don't understand why you and Nani can't teach us like she taught you."

"You should be excited, like your sister," Mrs. Patil chided, rapidly losing patience. She had heard these protestations for the past three months, and she had quite simply reached her limit. She understood all the reasons why Parvati wanted to stay in India - she was anxious about leaving too - but there were things she just didn't know about.

The economy had taken a turn for the worse that year, and there simply weren't enough jobs to go around. Although Sanjaya's job was fairly secure as a Healer, fewer and fewer people could afford to pay for treatment, and that meant he had more free hours than ever. It simply wasn't enough to have one working adult support the family anymore, and there were no opportunities for Sandhya to get her own. So when her cousin had written to her from England and said that St. Mungo's in London was looking for good Healers, Sandhya knew that she had to seize the opportunity. Her cousin helped them with the paperwork and with securing jobs - Sanjaya as a Healer in the Magical Bugs ward, and Sandhya as a nurse in the pediatric department. And now all that remained was for them to board a plane in the morning to their new home.

Parvati continued to pout, but she knew better than to press the issue once her mother had reached her limit. Grumpily, she did the bare minimum she could to help back, consenting at least to choose her own outfit for their trip. She hated when her mother picked out her clothes.

When they boarded the plane in the morning, Parvati stared out of the windows and watched her homeland disappear beneath her. She felt so anxious about her new life, with a new school and a new country. What if people didn't like her? What if they thought she was too weird? She doubted she would be able to find any churma laddoos, and she probably wouldn't even be able to wear her beautiful kurtas. Everything would be foreign, even the language, and she had no idea how she was ever going to get used to any of it.

o . o . o

Parvati stood and looked on absently as the professor spoke. She was speaking quickly, and most of it was going right over Parvati's head, just a mess of unfamiliar noises. Their parents had made them study English, but Padma had always been much better it, and Parvati had shirked her lessons at every opportunity. She simply hadn't understood what the fuss was all about - she had never thought they would leave Jaipur, leave home.

Everything here was so confusing. They had barely been in England two weeks before Parvati and Padma had to leave for Hogwarts. They had said a tearful goodbye to their parents and their little sister before the train had whisked them away. Two other girls had sat in their compartment, completely ignoring the Patil twins and chattering quickly to each other. Parvati hadn't understood any of their conversation, and she could tell that Padma had been overwhelmed too. When the train had stopped, they had followed the flow of students, trying to guess where they were supposed to be. The whole world seemed like a mystery to them.

But now, as they stood in the big room with the teacher giving them stern instructions, Parvati looked at her sister only to find Padma staring with eager eyes. It only made Parvati feel even more lost and isolated. She shuffled along, following the others from room to room. Occasionally, Padma would whisper in her ear and clarify some small detail, but they had little opportunity to talk before they were ushered to the front of a very crowded dining hall. Parvati tried not to feel nervous at all the people who were in front of her, but it didn't help that she had no idea what was going on.

One by one, students were called to the front, and a grimy old hat was placed on their heads. From there, they were sent to one of the four tables. Parvati paid careful attention to where the students went, so when she was given her directions, she would be able to follow them without asking for help. She did not want everyone's first impression of her to be that she was weak or helpless. She could figure things out by herself.

"Patil, Padma!"

Her sister stepped forward, and Parvati sucked in an anxious breath, bouncing on her tiptoes a little as she waited to see her sister's fate. The hat barely sat on her head for a few seconds before it declared her Ravenclaw. Parvati watched as her sister made her way to the table decked out in blue, her long plait swinging across her shoulder as she turned to look back at her sister.

"Patil, Parvati!"

With a deep breath, Parvati stepped forward onto the small dais and sat down on the stool provided. The professor placed the dingy hat on her head, and Parvati immediately felt another consciousness pressing at hers.

"Oh my," a voice said in her mind, and Parvati nearly jumped in surprise.

"Hello?" Parvati thought, wondering if this was supposed to be a conversation.

"_What have we here?_" the voice asked in heavily English accented Hindi. "_You're a very long way from home._"

"_Haan_," Parvati affirmed, a feeling of homesickness washing over her.

"You're very brave to come all this way," the voice told her, though Parvati didn't feel brave at all. "It will not be easy for you, but I can see that you have all the courage you need to do well here. Good luck, little one. Gryffindor!"

The final word rang out throughout the hall, but as the hat was lifted from her head, Parvati felt a sinking sense of disappointment. She looked wistfully at her sister as she walked towards the table of red and gold. They had never been apart in all their lives, and it seemed unthinkable that they would be separated now, just when Parvati needed her most. As she sat down, Parvati felt like weeping, and she couldn't keep the sullen look from her face.

The girl sitting to her right placed a hand on Parvati's arm, looking at her with concern. She asked a question, but Parvati didn't understand it.

"I'm Lavender," the girl said, and at least that much Parvati could understand.

"_Mera naam hai_… My name is Parvati," she corrected, reciting the phrase she had so carefully memorized.

"You're from India?" Lavender asked, understanding dawning across her features.

Parvati nodded.

"Do you speak English?" the girl said, although she seemed like she already knew the answer.

"No," Parvati answered. It wasn't completely true, but she didn't know enough English to explain the limitations of her language skills.

"Don't worry, I'll help you," Lavender said with a determined smile, and though Parvati didn't recognize the individual words, she understood the sentiment behind them.

For the first two weeks of school, Parvati struggled very much. But Lavender was amazing. She wrote to her family and asked if they could find some translation aids, and they sent back two auto-translate quills, which would allow Lavender to copy and translate her notes for Parvati, and for Parvati to write her essays in Hindi and turn them in fully translated. It was a very kind gesture, and Parvati was extremely grateful for the help, it truly made all the difference.

It allowed their friendship to blossom too. Lavender began leaving Parvati little messages of encouragement each morning. It was very sweet, and eventually, Parvati started to reciprocate by leaving little notes of good wishes on Lavender's pillow at night. During classes and meals, they would slip each other notes, making each other giggle happily.

None of this really addressed the root of the problem, however. Parvati wasn't really learning any more English, and she couldn't use the quill to translate for her entire life. She really needed to find a way to improve her skills, and fast. Sooner or later, one of the professors was going to expect her answer a question, and she would have to answer them...ideally in English.

Lavender offered to teach her, and the two girls worked together in every minute of their spare time. Parvati felt like her English was improving rapidly. She was still nervous about breaking it out around others - she was sure her heavy accent would make people tease her relentlessly - but she talked to Lavender more and more freely as the weather got colder. Soon, she felt like she could talk to her friend about anything she wanted to.

Parvati was gazing at the Halloween decorations in the corner of the classroom, transfixed by the flickering lights in the eyes of the carved pumpkins. She hadn't seen jack-o-lanterns in person before, and she found the sight of them quite eerie.

"Miss Patil?"

Parvati looked around quickly to find Professor McGonagall staring down at her through her spectacles. The woman was always so intimidating, but Parvati didn't shrink away.

"Could you please tell me the five variables of the transformation formula?" Professor McGonagall asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Of course, Professor," Parvati answered. She felt nervous, but at the same time quite confident - she knew this answer, and now she knew how to express herself. "Bodyweight, viciousness, wand power, concentration, and sentience."

"Very good, Miss Patil," Professor McGonagall said, smiling slightly and looking impressed.

At last, Parvati had found her voice, and nothing was going to get in her way again.


	9. Grab a Hold of Me

HSW&W, Asst 10 | House: Gryffindor | Subject: Magical Literature | Task #4 | Prompt: Write about someone finding love in an unexpected place | Word Count: 2817

IPC, #811 - [Trope] Good girl/Bad boy

Writing Club - "(name), might I ask you a personal question about your dalliance with the douche?"

S Funfair - Liza50 - [Trope] Huddled together for warmth

N Funfair - Liza16 - [Prompt] Write about a chance meeting

E Funfair - Angel:Brown7,Gray10,Green2 - [Trope] Snowed in, [Colour] Ink black, [Character] Marlene McKinnon

Muggle University AU.

* * *

o . o . o

* * *

**Grab a Hold of Me**

Mary wasn't paying much attention as she buttoned her coat, struggling to balance her books in the crook of her elbow and fumbling with the buttons at the same time. She glanced up quickly and saw a man standing by the library's outer doors, but she thought nothing of it and quickly pushed open the door to the little foyer, immediately met by a gust of cold air.

"Hey, don't -!" the man called out as she stepped through, whipping around to face her, but he stopped speaking the moment the door clicked behind her.

"Sorry?" Mary said, not at all understanding the annoyed expression on his face.

"It's past midnight, we can't get back in," the man explained, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat.

"Okay, so just come back tomorrow," Mary shrugged, standing still on the marble steps. She was a little wary of the stranger, and she didn't really want to move any closer to him.

"Can't leave," he snapped.

"What?"

He motioned to the large windows of the outer doors, and Mary stepped forward to stare into the darkness. She couldn't see anything, and at first she didn't understand. But then it clicked. _She couldn't see anything_. There should be benches and a sidewalk and flowerbeds, but there was nothing. A thick blanket of snow covered the ground, and anything on it. It must be three feet high at least, and of course the doors opened outward. They were stuck. Tomorrow was Sunday, so the library wouldn't open until eight in the morning.

Mary shivered at the cold air and looked over at her unfortunate companion for the night. He seemed so familiar. Suddenly she recognized him. He was older than the last time she'd seen him, but still just as handsome. The same ink black hair and dark green eyes, though he was taller now and something about his frame just seemed more… adult. Antonin had always given off a bit of a dangerous energy, and that hadn't changed at all in the years since, and Mary still found it as intoxicating as she had back then.

With an annoyed sigh, Antonin pushed away from the outer doors, moving deeper into the foyer and taking a seat on the steps. Mary wasn't sure if he was getting away from her or the cold, but she could feel the chill eating through her clothes. Hesitantly, she moved toward the steps as well, careful to take a seat far enough away so as not to crowd Antonin.

"I take it I'm not the only one who didn't know about the storm then," he remarked, his eyes wandering over Mary's tights and thin black peacoat.

"I've been studying all day since classes ended," Mary replied, pulling her coat tighter around her, thankful she had at least brought a scarf. "I haven't seen a forecast in days."

"I was in London with my family," Antonin explained. "Just got back this morning."

Mary nodded, but she didn't know what else to say. She hadn't seen him in years, and even when they were in school they hadn't had much in common. Mary had always been quiet and studious, easily slipping by unnoticed by everyone. Antonin had been the opposite, commanding every room the moment he walked in. He had been quiet too, but in a different way - he said little because he didn't need to, people hung on his every word.

Silence hung heavy between them in the small foyer, making Mary uncomfortable. Normally she didn't mind a quiet atmosphere, but now it felt suffocating. She wanted to know if he was still the same dominating person as before. She wanted to know if he remembered her, or if she had been as invisible to him as she had been to everyone else. Completely counter to her nature, she felt compelled to say something, anything.

"We went to school together, you know," Mary said to break the long silence.

"I remember," he answered, smiling slightly. She thought it might be the first time she had ever seen him smile. "You were very sweet."

Mary blushed at the words, but she wasn't sure they were meant as a compliment. With Antonin 'sweet' wasn't necessarily a strength.

"I…" he paused, thoughtful, and it seemed almost like he was lost in his mind for a moment. "I always wished I knew you a bit better, that we were friends."

His words took Mary by complete surprise. She wasn't sure she would ever have been bold enough to admit something like that. But the sentiment of the declaration was even more shocking than his daring. Why would Antonin want to be friends with _her?_ What did she have to offer that was different from anyone else?

"I'm not sure you ever spoke to me even once," she said quietly.

"No, I reckon not," Antonin conceded, bowing his head slightly. "My friends wouldn't have approved."

"Right."

Suddenly Mary was reminded how Antonin had earned the reputation of being dangerous. His friends - the Sacred Eight, as they liked to call themselves - were a large part of that. All boys who came from wealth and long lineages of nobility, they despised anyone from the lower classes. More than that, they had tormented the more impoverished students far beyond normal schoolyard bullying. Mary tried to remember if she had ever heard Antonin's name associated with any of the depraved acts that had gone on, but she couldn't. He must have participated though, if he was friends with them. Even if he hadn't, he never stopped them, and surely that was just as bad. Mary shivered, though not from the cold that was slowly seeping through her tights. She easily could have been one of their victims, if she hadn't been so invisible.

"Here," Antonin said, reaching out toward her with one arm.

"Sorry?" she replied, confused by his gesture.

"Body heat," he answered simply. "You'll be warmer near me."

Mary considered her options for a brief second, but it really was cold, and she was starting to feel the chill biting down to her bones. She got up and moved toward him, sitting down but careful to keep a few inches between them. Antonin grinned slightly, amused by her reluctance. He wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her closer, until she was pressed against him. Mary blushed, but she didn't move away. It might feel uncomfortable to be so near him, but it really was warmer.

"Why were you friends with them?" she whispered after a few minutes.

"I guess I didn't see a way not to be," Antonin replied, carefully keeping his gaze on the door. "My parents sort of pushed me into a friendship with them when I was little, and I suppose by the time I was old enough to understand what they were doing, I didn't see a way to break with them. So I just carried on."

Mary nodded, understanding even if she wasn't sure his answer made any of it alright.

"Just because we were friends, it doesn't mean I agreed with the things they did," he insisted, turning to look at her with an intense gaze. She looked at his dark eyes and tried to decide if she could forgive him.

"But you didn't stop them," she argued, "and isn't silence a sort of tacit consent?"

"Are you doing a philosophy degree?" he joked, his voice light for a moment even though his expression was still serious. "They knew I didn't agree, at least enough not to include me in the plans for their worse transgressions. But I also admit that I was ignorant, and my views then were not what they are now. I was less tolerant and it was wrong of me. So perhaps then I didn't object to their actions as strongly as I do now."

"That's a pretty reasonable answer I suppose," Mary admitted with a small smile. "And it's not philosophy, it's English Literature."

"Ah, so you're going to be a professor then," he teased, grinning back at her.

"And a writer," she added. "And you?"

"Politics," he replied. "Someone has to turn this country around."

"And you think you're the right person for that?" she asked, realizing too late that it sounded like more of a challenge than she meant.

"I think I can try," he answered, and she wasn't sure what she could say in response.

They sat in a more comfortable silence, leaning into each other and seeking shelter in each other's warmth. Mary rested her head on his shoulder, her eyelids fluttering shut as both the cold and the late hour attempted to lull her to sleep.

Antonin turned his head toward her, breathing in her scent. She smelled amazing, utterly intoxicating, and having her so near was almost too much. He had admired her so much when they were in school, and it was clear to him now that she had no idea why. Her kindness and concern for others had always drawn him in, and he wished he possessed such qualities. He brushed his lips against her forehead, lightly enough that he hoped she wouldn't notice. He wished they could be together, but there was no way that someone as sweet as Mary would want him.

"Come here," he whispered tenderly, tucking her hair back as another shiver ran through her.

He stood, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet as well, and led her to the back corner of the foyer, farthest from the outer doors and the snow that was still falling. Antonin sat with his back against the wall and Mary settled between his legs as he pulled her against his chest. He took his coat and draped it over Mary, dampening her shudders. Though the cold began to seep into his body almost immediately, he didn't care as long as she was warm.

"We should get some sleep," he suggested, wrapping his arms around her.

Mary nodded drowsily and tucked herself into him, seeking out his warmth. She nestled even closer to him, her cheek against his chest, and Antonin hugged her closer to him. She sighed as warmth passed between them, creating a little shield from the cold of the storm. As Mary fell asleep, her hand drifted up until it was next to her face. Her ring finger had caught on the placket of his shirt, the tip slipping underneath. The feel of her skin against his was electrifying. Antonin covered her hand with his own, seeking out as much contact as possible. Mary had fallen fast asleep, warm against him, but Antonin wasn't sure he wanted to sleep. As tired as he was, while she snuggled against him he could pretend that they were together, that her sleepy caresses weren't just for warmth but because she cared for him. He wanted to soak up every second of it.

o . o . o

Mary woke to sunlight streaming through the doors and Antonin's arms wrapped around her. It was an oddly comforting feeling, and she wished she didn't have to break away. But at the same time, the cold had truly set in, giving Antonin's nose and fingers a bluish hue. She checked her watch to see that it was 8:17 - several minutes past the library's opening.

"Antonin," she whispered, her voice hoarse from the cold. She placed her hand on his cheek and his eyes blinked open at her touch. "The library is open, let's go."

They unfolded themselves from their little corner and hastened through the inner doors. They opened without any protest, allowing the two cold refugees into the warmth of the lobby. It hit them like a blast, almost painful against their icy skin. Mary winced at the prickly sensation marching across her skin and leaned into Antonin. He let his hand fall at her waist, holding her close.

"Thank you," she whispered, blushing furiously as she met his gaze. Somehow, their night cuddled up together for warmth seemed extremely intimate in daylight, and she felt like he had lit a fire inside of her.

"For what?" he asked, his breath ghosting across her skin. Dark curls were falling into his eyes, and she longed to reach up and brush them aside.

"You took care of me," Mary answered simply, her fingers curling around the lapels of his coat. "I… it was kind of you."

"It was nothing," he whispered.

Mary reeled, her grip on his coat loosening. She felt so stupid - of course he didn't feel what she did. Who on earth would develop a crush based on a few hours snowed in together? And besides, they were so different, it wouldn't make sense for him to be interested in her anyway. There was nothing she could offer him. Mary began to back away, but she only managed to create a few inches of space between them before Antonin's hands were tightening on her waist just enough to make her stop.

"It's nothing because I could never do anything but take care of you," Antonin said quietly, one hand drifting up to tuck her hair behind her ear, his thumb stroking her porcelain cheek.

He seemed to be fighting his instincts in order to let Mary take the reigns and decide what she wanted and what she was comfortable with. She breathed deeply, summoning every ounce of courage she had and stretched up on her tiptoes, kissing him softly. Antonin responded immediately, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close to him, deepening their kiss until Mary thought her heart might explode from sheer joy. He pulled away after a long moment, smiling from ear to ear as he looked at her and unable to keep his hands from dancing across her skin and playing with her hair. Mary couldn't help but let out a small giggle, resting her head against his chest as she hugged him happily. Getting snowed in at the library wasn't nearly as bad as she had expected it to be.

o . o . o

"Mary, might I ask you a personal question about your dalliance with the douche?" Marlene said in a sickly sweet voice as she leaned against the kitchen counter.

"What?" she replied, not entirely following while she tried to focus on the pasta she was cooking.

"Dolohov," Marlene clarified. "Benjy saw you two all cuddled up the other morning. I think he was a little bit jealous."

"There's nothing for him to be jealous of," Mary stated, though there was a twinge in her heart that wished otherwise.

"Isn't there?" Marlene asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"What was your question?" Mary huffed, feeling a bit prickled by her friend's knowing stare.

"Only how far you planned to take things with him," she asked. "Antonin is well known for his ability to...steal hearts, shall we say. I wouldn't want you to get hurt in the crossfire."

"I can take care of myself," Mary challenged. "Besides, I'm not sure that his reputation is entirely based in fact.'

"Oh Mary, don't be that girl."

"I don't know what you mean," she insisted, blushing furiously.

"Don't be the naive girl who falls for the bad boy and thinks she can change him," Marlene cautioned. "Maybe you don't remember how he was when we were at school, but I certainly do, and trust me when I say, he has nothing to offer you. He's no good, Mary."

_He's changed_, Mary wanted to say, desperate to offer some rebuttal. But she had to admit, she didn't really know him that well. Maybe everything he had said that night had all been so he could… _So he could what? Steal a kiss? _She couldn't imagine even Antonin would have been angling for anything more while huddled in an icy library foyer. But maybe she was just naive.

"Hey, I didn't mean to bum you out," Marlene said, interrupting Mary's thoughts. "I just want you to be careful with Antonin, okay?"

"Yeah, of course I will," Mary answered, offering her friend a fake smile.

She wanted to tell Marlene that of course she would follow her advice and guard her heart from the handsome knave, but she had a feeling it was already too late. Mary was pretty sure that Antonin had already stolen her heart, and she wasn't the least bit sad about it.


	10. Ash & Blood

**Ash & Blood**

HSW&W Term 12, Assignment 1 | Gryffindor| Paleontology, Task 9 | Write about not knowing whether someone is alive or dead | Word Count: 1645

IPC #224 - Dialogue: "If my day gets any worse, I'm asking hell if they're having an exchange program."

365 #37 - Broken

Warnings: major physical injury, possible character death

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o . o . o

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Hannah scrambled down the stairs, climbing over piles of stone and debris. It seemed that half the walls in the castle had been blown to pieces in the course of the battle so far. With all the adrenaline flowing through her system, she hadn't really noticed it happening in the moment, but now she could barely see through the clouds of dust in the air. But they'd been given a reprieve, and now she imagined everyone was scrambling to find each other, to take stock of their losses and injuries. Actually, in truth, Hannah had no idea what anyone else was doing, but there was only one thing she was interested in. She had to find Anthony.

It sounded mad, but the entire time she had been fighting, it had been an alternating stream of two thoughts. _Just stay alive. Please let Anthony be okay._ Part of her thought that it didn't even matter if she survived as long as Anthony made it out alive, though she knew that he would kill her if she died. But now that staying alive was taken care of, Hannah felt fear choking her.

She had no idea where she was going, or whether it was in the direction of where Anthony was. They hadn't been together when the fighting had started, so he could be anywhere. But down seemed like a good direction to start. That would be where other people were, and someone else might know what happened to him.

"Anthony?" she croaked, crawling over a particularly large pile of stone. A few pieces shifted under her hands and she slipped a little, feeling the debris cutting across her palm. Terror gripped her. He could have been hurt by falling debris, or even crushed beneath it. He could be beneath this very pile for all she knew, suffocating. "Anthony!" she called out more desperately, tearing at the rocks between her, not caring even a little bit that she was shredding her fingertips in the process.

Hannah moved from pile to pile in a daze, coughing dust out of her lungs. Each time she hit the bottom of one mount - or had dug through as much as she was capable of moving - she felt the fear in her heart grow a little bit more. Why couldn't she find him? What had happened to him? Was he dead somewhere? She needed to know, the uncertainty was a nightmare.

Blindly, Hannah stumbled through the hallways and down flights of stairs, searching all the while, until she found herself outside the transfiguration classroom. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath and steady herself. With every step that she took, she lost more hope. There was so much destruction, and Hannah was beginning to think that there would be bodies that may never be found. Through a nearby window, she could see a massive pile of rubble where the Astronomy Tower used to be. Hannah laid her hands on the stone ledge of the window, looking out into the night. How long would they have before Voldemort renewed his attacks? She didn't fully believe that he would keep his word.

"Hannah?" a voice called, and she turned around sharply, casting off her reverie. Squinting, she could just see the outline of a body hidden in one of the alcoves that used to house a suit of armor.

"Anthony?" she asked, staggering toward him. Hannah began to hyperventilate as she tried not to cry, but she couldn't help the sobs. She knelt next to him and ran her hands over his face, leaving streaks of dirt and blood smeared over his skin. "You're okay."

"I dunno, Hannah, if my day gets any worse, I'm asking hell if they're having an exchange program," he joked in response, eliciting a laugh from her that quickly turned into more coughing as she choked on dust and debris.

"You don't think we've got enough demons up here?" Hannah teased back.

"Ah, don't worry, I'd take you with me," he assured her, grinning.

Hannah adjusted her position slightly, one hand falling to his chest, and he winced at the slight pressure. Though Anthony tried to hide it, she didn't miss the expression, and worry immediately coursed through her again. His leg was badly broken, with bone poking through a large gash, and when she lifted his shirt she could see dark bruises blossoming across his ribcage.

"Anthony!" she groaned, tears springing to her eyes once more.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he hushed, his words wrapping around her like a soothing blanket. He always had been able to work magic with his words. "It's alright, I'm fine."

Hannah curled into his side, careful not to press on any of his injuries, and lay her head on his shoulder. She really needed to go find someone who could help him - if nothing else, the wound on his leg needed to be cleaned and covered before all the debris caused an infection. And yet she couldn't bring herself to move. She'd only just found him, and she needed a few minutes to feel his body next to hers and let him work his linguistic magic. Just long enough to be sure that it was real and he wasn't a hallucination that her mind had conjured out of a desperate need for him to be alright. She just needed to know, to be _certain_ that Anthony really was okay.

"Hannah," he soothed, rubbing his thumb across her forearm. "Everything is going to be okay."

She sat up and took a deep, shuddering breath. It was time to stop her tears and get a move on. This war had stolen their childhood away and taught Hannah the importance of doing what needed to be done, and in that moment, it meant leaving Anthony in order to find someone who could help them.

"Okay, I'm going to go see if I can find Madam Pomfrey or someone else, I just don't know how to heal injuries like this," Hannah said, trying to brush some dirt from his cheek, though her hands were so covered in ash that she ended up merely smearing more across his face. "Stay here, and don't…"

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured her, understanding the words she couldn't bring herself to say.

Hannah squeezed his hand one last time, not entirely sure whether it was to reassure Anthony or herself. He smiled at her, warm and genuine, and it gave her the strength she needed to get up. She would have to be fast. The moment she rounded the corner, Hannah felt the fear creeping up once more that something might have happened to snap the tenuous thread that held him in the land of the living. _He's fine. It's been two minutes, nothing happened, he's fine._ She repeated the words over and over in her mind as she walked through the castle, searching.

"Now, if you'll help me move these students into the Great Hall, we can begin to assess their condition -"

"Madam Pomfrey!" Hannah exclaimed, relief flooding through her as she saw the healer instructing Dean and Seamus.

"Miss Abbott, I'm glad to see you, Mr. Thomas and -" she began to say, but Hannah interrupted her once more.

"Actually Madam Pomfrey, I need your help," she said. "I just found Anthony near the transfiguration classroom, but he's badly hurt and I…" Her voice cracked slightly and she took a breath to steady herself again. "I don't know how to heal him, and I can't move him."

"Lead the way, Miss Abbott," Madam Pomfrey answered without hesitation, briefly turning back toward the two young men at her side. "Mr. Thomas, Mr. Finnegan, please continue moving the students, I will return shortly."

Hannah set off once more, leading Madam Pomfrey at a rapid pace through the hallway. Though there was still some fear that he could have taken a turn for the worse while she was gone, Hannah finally felt some of it dissipate. She had found help, and Madam Pomfrey could heal just about anything. He had to be alright now.

When they rounded the final corner, Hannah's eyes immediately found the little alcove. Anthony was still there, his head leaning back against the stone wall. For a brief moment she panicked, but as she got closer she could see the rise and fall of his chest. He was still alive.

"Hey," he greeted, opening his eyes at the sound of their footsteps.

Hannah dropped to her knees by his head once more, taking his hand in hers again as Madam Pomfrey began to examine his injuries.

"I think I'll mend the leg first," she said, all business. "Then we can move you and I will be able to assess the extent of your other injuries better."

"Sounds good," he answered, a grin spreading across his face. "If it's not too much to ask, Madam Pomfrey, I'd like to avoid as much pain as possible as you do this. I think I've had about as much as I can take today, and I'm not sure Hannah'll make it if I pass out."

"I'll do my best, Mr. Goldstein," Madam Pomfrey assured him, extracting her wand. "Heavens knows we don't need to be causing more injuries to ourselves at this point."

Hannah watched, but her mind was elsewhere. They'd made it through the first battle of the night, but it was almost certainly not going to be the last. She almost felt as though worry was more likely to kill her than a curse at this point, and she had no idea where she was going to find the strength to keep going. But then again, maybe she knew exactly where it was going to come from. Because she would do absolutely anything to keep Anthony safe, and that was not something she would ever give up on.


	11. Scars of the Heart

**Scars of the Heart**

A birthday fic for Liz Jean Tonks! I hope you like it, and sorry I'm a few days late.

Prompts: HarryLuna, hurt/comfort, self-harm

IPC # 204 - [Dialogue] "I would say I'm sorry, but we both know I'm not."  
365 #83 - Edge

Warnings: Self harm, PTSD, depression, alcholism, strong language [swearing]

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o . o . o

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Harry stumbled into the house, his eyes unaccustomed to the dark after being outside. He hated going out during the day - hated going out at all, really. He wanted to stay in bed all day, but that would bring concerned parties knocking on his door, and he wanted that even less. Since the war ended, Harry had spent his days toiling away at Hogwarts, trying to rebuild every inch of the castle that had been destroyed. He turned down any help that was offered and insisted on doing things with his own hands, rather than use magic. Of course he knew that others were working too, in different parts of that castle. That was alright with him, after all he couldn't rebuild walls ten stories tall. As long as everyone left him alone, Harry didn't care what anyone else did.

It wasn't as though there was a parade of people seeking his company anyway. For a while, reporters from the Prophet kept trying to find him for interviews, but Harry got rid of them pretty quickly, and they knew better than to come knocking now. But everyone else was caught up in their own aftermath. The Weasleys had drawn together to mourn Fred, a tight knit family that found comfort in sharing the burden of their grief. Hermione had gone to right the situation with her family. Everyone in the wizarding world was facing the fallout of the war in some way or another. So Harry was left to deal with it all in peace.

It could perhaps be said that he wasn't dealing with it. He worked all day to keep his mind from spinning, and when the sky grew dark he finally went home to Grimmauld Place. There, he would either get to work tearing the house to its studs and rebuilding or he would pull out a bottle of firewhisky and drain it. Sometimes both, if the day had been particularly bad. Anything to make sure his mind stayed blissfully clear of the dangerous thoughts that sometimes trespassed.

Toward the end of the summer, the moon rose full and clear in the sky, and Harry's thoughts turned to Remus and Tonks. They had so much life ahead of them, all gone. Sacrificed and who knew what for. Sure, Voldemort was gone, but the war could have been avoided. Harry could have gotten rid of Voldemort so much earlier if Dumbledore had told him the truth. They could have ended things together, saved so many lives. Harry took a long drink from his bottle of firewhisky, feeling the burn like some sort of penance.

Killing Voldemort hadn't truly changed things either. It hadn't changed what was in people's minds, what poisoned their hearts. There were still people out in the world who felt that muggle borns were inferior. Harry couldn't just forget how quickly most of the world had accepted the Ministry's abrupt turnaround and implementation of horrific policies. He gulped down more of the firewhisky.

The world was still fucked, and this time there wasn't anything he could do to fix it. He was damn tired of being the saviour or the chosen one or whatever anyway. Harry tried to take another swig from the bottle, but he found it infuriatingly empty. Angrily, he threw the bottle across the room and it crashed against the wall, shattering into tiny fragments that rained down on the floor. Harry groaned and stumbled across the room, realizing for the first time that night how blurry his vision had become. He fell into the wall and slid down, his head spinning unpleasantly, and his hand landed on a large shard of glass.

Harry hissed in pain, pulling his hand back and sitting back on the ground. He examined his hand, noting the swirling blood in his palm. As the initial bite of the cut faded, Harry felt relief sweep through his body, relaxing his mind. He felt as though the edge had been taken off his distress, like his grief was no longer a sharp knife carving away at his mind. Harry sank bankward and sagged against the wall, letting the endorphins flood his system.

When the effects began to wear off, Harry longed for the feeling to return. Experimentally, he rolled up his sleeve and dragged the jagged piece of glass across the skin of his arm. Seconds later, he sighed as the relief enveloped him again.

From then on, it became a ritual for Harry. He would carefully apply glamours in the morning, set off for the castle and work until his body ached all over, and then return home. The moment he returned to Grimmauld Place, he would pull out the glass fragment and draw it across his skin, and then open up a bottle of firewhisky to prolong the relief that each new cut brought.

Harry began to stay awake later and later, drinking more to get through the night. Staying conscious seemed to be the only way to keep the nightmares at bay. The problem - not that Harry was aware of it - was that the combination of excessive alcohol and lack of sleep was making him forgetful, and more than a little unreliable in his magic.

November had descended cold and wet on the entire United Kingdom, but Harry continued to toil away in the castle. As he worked, he rolled up his sleeves, unaware that his spell from the morning had failed.

"Heya Harry!" Neville greeted cheerfully, walking down the hall and giving his friend a wave.

"Hi Neville," Harry answered, straightening up and turning around. "How's the training going?"

"Great!" he said excitedly. "Professor Sprout has been teaching me so much."

"That's great," Harry replied, plastering a smile on his face. He reached up to wipe sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, and Neville's eyes followed the movement. A concerned look flickered across his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "I should probably get back to work, Neville."

"Sure, sure," he said, sounding a little distracted. "Have fun or, you know, whatever."

Neville left and Harry continued with his work, all but forgetting their brief conversation. When the sun was almost below the horizon and the sky was stained with pinks and purples, Harry called it a day and returned to Grimmauld Place earlier than usual. He snatched the glass shard from its place of honor on the kitchen table and brought it into the living room, collapsing on the worn out velvet sofa that he hadn't gotten around to throwing away yet. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes - he had learned that it was easier if he didn't look. Easier to make the cut, easier to believe that the cut was the source of all his pain. Harry ran his fingers over his skin, searching for a blank canvas. When he found an untouched space, he adjusted his grip on the glass and carved.

Harry sat that way for a long time, draining half the bottle of firewhisky to replace the blood that was slipping out of his veins.

"Harry," a voice said, quiet and ethereal, so dreamlike that he almost thought he was imagining it until it spoke again, more forceful. "HARRY."

He sat up and opened his eyes to see Luna standing in front of him. She looked more cross than he had ever seen her before.

"Heya Luna," he slurred, offering her a sloppy smile. He should be shocked that she was there, that she'd gotten into the house, but he still wasn't entirely convinced she wasn't an apparition.

"What have you done, Harry?" she asked crossing the room to sit next to him on the couch and pressing her hands over the oozing cut on his arm.

"I would say I'm sorry," he snorted, taking another swig of firewhisky, "but we both know I'm not."

"How long have you been doing this?" Luna asked, looking at all the scars that ran over his arm with a horrified expression on her face.

Harry didn't answer, tipping his head back again so he didn't have to see the expression on her face. He knew it all too well. Pity, sadness. Disappointment that he couldn't manage to end the war before all those people died. He saw it on everyone's faces, he saw it in the mirror.

"Why didn't you tell anyone how much you were hurting?" Luna said, her voice as soft as a velvet blanket.

In a way, it felt as though she were seeing into his mind, though it wasn't quite legilimency. More than once, Harry had wondered if Luna had a gift for empathy far greater than any of them knew.

"Everyone's hurting," Harry answered with a shrug. It was the truth, albeit a much simplified version.

"That doesn't mean everyone's stopped caring about you," Luna replied, tenderly running her fingers through the long hair around his ears. "No one would want you doing this to yourself. You can't kill yourself trying to stay numb. You need to feel the pain in order to heal."

"I can't," Harry said, squeezing his eyes shut as tears burned. "I can't feel this pain, Luna, it'll kill me."

"No it won't," she countered, drawing her knees up onto the sofa and curling into Harry's side so she could hug him. "I promise it won't."

"Luna, you don't know…" Harry protested, bringing his free hand up to fist in his hair. "I know you lost your mum, but that was an accident and it's not the same. It's not the same as everything being your fault."

"My dad didn't…" her voice quivered and she shook against his body, and Harry opened his eyes to look at her. It was the first time he'd really seen another person in months, and it was sobering enough to make him feel like the alcohol had evaporated from his body. "The Death Eaters tortured him pretty badly. He was okay for a while, but the damage was done and he just couldn't come back from it."

"I'm sorry, Luna, I didn't know," he whispered, leaning into her.

"It's okay," she said.

They were quiet for a long time, curled up together on the weathered sofa. Harry felt a different kind of comfort from what he had been chasing the past few months. He knew instinctively that it was healthier, more healing, though he still craved the numbness. Part of him knew that it was time to let go of that now and move on to better methods of coping, loathe as he was to admit it.

"Promise me you'll stop," Luna said, breaking him out of his thoughts and looking up at him with wide eyes. "Please, Harry, you've got to."

"Will you help me?" he asked, speaking what was probably the most difficult sentence of his life.

"Of course I will," she answered, smiling as she said the words. "We'll help each other."

Harry smiled probably the closest thing to a genuine smile since the battle, feeling muscles strain from a lack of use. He knew in that moment, with the same certainty that Luna knew that crumple horned snorkacks were real, that they were going to be okay.


	12. Finding Faith

**Finding Faith**

HSW&W, Assignment 2 | Gryffindor | Amulets & Talismans, Task 4 - Write about someone practicing religion | WC: 1234

IPC #820 - [Restriction] Exactly 1234 words.

365 #142 - Home

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o . o . o

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Hermione was reasonably certain that she was the only one in the castle who knew about the little chapel. She had never seen anyone else there, and nobody ever mentioned it. It wasn't even in Hogwarts: A History (she had checked). And the only other person their year who was religious was Anthony Goldstein, and Hermione wasn't sure if he would pray in a chapel.

It had been the hardest thing for Hermione to come to terms with when she found out she was a witch. Learning had always come easy to her, but faith had been harder. She often questioned her beliefs and whether they were right, but deep down she had known what she believed until she got the letter from Hogwarts.

What if all the prophets from the bible were just wizards that non-magical people hadn't understood? What if that's all saints were? Did it mean that god didn't exist at all? Had Christ rising from the dead simply been a ghostly apparition?

She spent weeks trying to make sense of it all and pouring over any magical history book she could get her hands on. The more she read about the wizarding world, the more she felt her faith slipping. Miracle after miracle could be explained by the spells and potions in her new textbooks. But Hermione found a cornerstone from which to rebuild. There was no magic that could raise the dead the way Christ had raised Lazarus. As she held onto that thought, Hermione found that there was more in her faith that couldn't be explained by magic. Salves could not restore a blind man's sight, spells could not cure leprosy, and no magic wielded by man could calm a tempest. As Hermione found more exceptions, she felt her faith strengthen, and she felt guilty that she had ever begun to doubt. She resolved never to waiver while she was at school.

Hermione was three weeks into her third year when she found the little chapel. It was nestled in a side corridor of the castle, high up on the fifth floor, with beautiful stained glass windows that overlooked a part of the grounds that students rarely roamed. She had been wandering on her own, trying to walk off all the thoughts stirring in her mind. Harry didn't seem to be taking the threat of Sirius Black earnestly, and it worried her. She had been wandering throughout the castle and stumbled on the chapel, instantly enchanted by its beauty. The chapel became her sanctuary - a place where she could find peace in her faith each week, and she attended vigilantly.

As usual, early Sunday morning, Hermione knelt in the pew alone, bowing her head and crossing herself the way she had done so many times before. She began to whisper the words that brought her comfort.

_Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from all Evil. For the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory are yours, now and forever. Amen._

It was the intonation with which she always began her prayers on Sunday mornings. From there, she opened a weathered copy of the bible nestled in one of the cabinets tucked away in the chapel, and began to read. At mass, they would normally read a passage from the Old Testament, one from the New Testament, and one from the four Gospels. But Hermione didn't know which passages were assigned for each week, so she simply read through the bible sequentially. She read aloud, a few chapters each week, because she often found that hearing the words echo through the little chapel brought new meaning to them. When she finished the readings, she would reflect on it for a while, trying to find what it was she was supposed to learn from them. Whenever Hermione looked up from her reflections, she would find a small goblet of wine and plate with one wafer laid out on the altar at the front. Somehow she knew that the prayers for transubstantiation weren't necessary. She stood and recited the Lord's Prayer, her hands held out and her head tipped back slightly, and then she spoke the words which always brought her the most calm.

"Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed."

Hermione felt so changed by those words each week, it was almost as if a gust of forgiving wind swept through the chapel and washed her clean. She walked up to the altar and partook of the body and blood, as she would have at home. Turning around, Hermione stopped short. Suddenly, she was no longer alone in the chapel.

Padma Patil stood in the doorway, looking curiously at her.

"What are you doing?" she asked softly, stepping forward slightly now that Hermione had seen her.

"Praying," Hermione answered. "I miss being able to go to mass, so I do my best to recreate it here. It brings me peace."

"You still believe?" Padma asked again, looking around the chapel and taking in the scenery.

"I...I had some doubts, when I first got my letter, but I realized that magic wasn't the answer to miracles," Hermione said, not entirely sure why she was sharing this. She had always felt that faith and religion was very personal.

"I don't mean magic," Padma interrupted, shaking her head. "I meant after every that's happened the last two years. Voldemort, possession, trying to kill people…"

"It's awful," Hermione agreed with furrowed brows, "but why should that make me question my faith?"

"You can witness all that and still believe in a god who loves you?"

"I think…" she paused for a second to examine how she truly felt and find the right words. "I think that god loves us all, and he shows us by sending the people and the tools we need to fight people like Voldemort."

"That's a rather brave view," Padma said, smiling wryly. "No one you're in Gryffindor. I always thought you were a natural Ravenclaw, but perhaps I was wrong."

Hermione smiled, not sure how to respond. In truth, she had always agreed with Padma, and often wondered why she had been sorted into Gryffindor instead.

"I think my faith is what allows me to be brave," she said. "When I feel scared or unsure, I pray, and then usually I feel more confident."

"It must be nice to be so sure."

Padma looked so sad, and Hermione felt for her. She could empathize with Padma more than she expected. More than once, her analytical mind had gotten in the way of her faith, but she thought that maybe they key to let go. Sometimes, you just had to believe.

"Do you want to pray with me?" Hermione asked tentatively. "It might be calming."

"Okay," Padma agreed. "That would be lovely."

They exchanged prayers from both their religions, and from that week on, Hermione had a friend with her in the chapel. They would pray together, and debate afterward, and Hermione felt that this new ritual brought her even more peace than practicing alone had.


	13. Émigré

HSW&W, Assignment 6 | Gryffindor | Floristry, Task 6 | Prompt: Write about someone beginning a new, exciting chapter in their life

Word Count: 436

IPC # 809 - [Restriction] No dialogue  
365 #123 - Generation

Muggle AU, set post-WWI

_Warnings: references to character death, mentions of war_

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**Émigré**

She stepped off the gangway, her skirt fluttering around her ankles in the sea breeze as her heels clicked on the Australian pavement for the first time. She reached up and put a hand atop her hat, making sure the little cloche didn't blow away in the wind. Her hair wasn't as neatly coiffed as usual, but she had done her best on the little boat, and the other girls in the shared dormitory had kindly offered to help her pin her golden hair into a neat chignon. In her other hand, Hannah tightened her grip on her suitcase and shuffled forward with the other passengers.

The sun was beating down, soaking into her skin and warming Hannah. It was a stark difference from the rainy weather back home in England, but Hannah needed more than a little change. England had become a dreary place, and it had nothing to do with the weather. The war had torn Hannah's life apart, leaving her scant few friends, no brother, and no fiance - a whole generation gone just like that. Even her job as a nurse had been taken away now that the men were all home from the front again. All she could do was return to her comfortable life in the countryside, sitting in the study reading. But her house was full of ghosts - she saw Jacob everywhere she went. Breakfasts together in the small dining room, a dance in the ballroom the time he graciously saved her from an atrocious suitor, childhood games played across the sprawling lawns. Her brother was everywhere. London was no better, on the occasions that she took the train in. She could see herself kissing Anthony outside of the nightclub before coyly slipping away, could remember brunches with Susan and Lisa, and couples outings with Justin and Ernie rounding out the group. It seemed there was nowhere left in England that wasn't haunted, and Hannah couldn't stand it anymore.

Australia was her chance at a fresh start. Nothing here would remind her of home or of the people she lost, and that was something she desperately needed.

Once her visa had been checked and stamped, Hannah stepped through the gates to her new life. Butterflies flitted through her stomach as she walked through the Sydney streets, following the handwritten directions to the ladies' dormitory where she would be staying. She couldn't help but feel a mounting sense of hope with each step that she took. There was a certainty that she hadn't felt in a very long time, not since long before the war. Everything was going to be alright.


	14. I'm So Scared

_HSWW Term 12, Assignment 7 | House: Gryffindor | Muggle Art, Task 2 | Prompt: Write about something or someone falling apart, figuratively or literally._

_Word Count: 579_

_April quarantine gift fic for Anna - MarleneSirius angst._

_IPC #172 - [Action] Punching someone/thing._

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**I'm So Scared That I'll Never (Get Put Back Together)**

_Blood traitor. Worthless. Alone. Unloved._

His father's words echoed through his mind as he stalked down the sidewalk, anger seething. He'd gone to the Leaky Cauldron initially, but Tom had kicked him out when he felt like Sirius had had enough to drink.

_Go home, Black. Sober up._

Little did Tom know, Sirius didn't have a home anymore. Probably never would again, if his father had his way. Orion Black was going to have Sirius barred from every reputable place in wizarding society before long. Not that he cared, Sirius greatly preferred the less illustrious places anyway.

Sirius felt a surge of hatred and the urge to be destructive. He turned down a dark little alley, and immediately began kicking the trash cans standing outside. It wasn't enough though. The trash cans couldn't feel pain, and Sirius wanted _someone _to hurt. Really, he wanted his parents to hurt, but he couldn't make that happen. Frustrated, Sirius punched the brick wall.

A delicious burst of pain tickled his nerves, and the corners of his mouth twitched up in an expression almost akin to a smile. He punched the wall again, feeling the endorphins flood his body. The brick tore at his skin, but it didn't stop him. Even as blood began to bloom across his knuckles and smear against the wall.

"Sirius."

He heard her voice somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, but it didn't register as real. It blended with the other voices echoing in his head - his father, his mother, Regulus… even Professor McGonagall made an appearance, telling him his grades weren't up to snuff and his behaviour was disappointing. So many people throughout his life telling him that it wasn't enough. That _he _wasn't enough.

A light touch brushed against his shoulder, and Sirius reeled instinctively. He swung, and he felt the crack of bone. Heels clicked against the pavement as she staggered backwards. Sirius blinked and his vision cleared from the seething red rage that had been consuming him.

Marlene stood in front of him, fingers delicately touching her cheekbone, where the skin had split and blood was oozing down her tanned skin. If it wasn't for his blood smeared across her cheek, he wouldn't have believed it. But the proof was undeniable.

_Shit._

"Mar," he said, his voice choked and raspy.

She pulled her hand away from her face, eyed the blood on her fingertips, and looked up at Sirius with horror. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and he could see the hurt in her eyes. He knew how bad this was.

"I'm sorry," he pleaded, taking a tentative step closer to her. "Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I didn't realize you were there, I didn't know it was you. I'm sorry."

But Sirius couldn't take anything slowly, and rushed toward her, reaching toward her face in the hopes that his touch could somehow make things better. He was wrong.

Marlene backed away, shaking her head at him, tears welling in her eyes. As they fell, rolling down her cheeks, Sirius knew they were burning in the cut that he had left. He felt like they were burning him.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

She closed her eyes and turned away, disapparating into the night sky. Sirius swore loudly and punched the wall some more, until he felt the bones in his hand cracking and crumbling beneath the force of it.

He had fucked up. Again.


	15. Secrets

IPC #217 - [Dialogue] "Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?"

Quarantine gift fic for Elizabeth!

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**Secrets**

Remus flopped down on the sofa next to Sirius with a heavy sigh. He slouched low, propping his feet up on the coffee table and dropping his head backward. It was a pose distinctly uncharacteristic of Remus.

"Something wrong?" James asked, briefly looking up from the parchment in front of him. He was sitting on the floor, bent over the coffee table, desperately trying to cobble together an essay for Slughorn before Quidditch practice started.

"I just don't know what Clara wants from me!" Remus burst out, dragging his palms over his face. "It's like I can't do anything right. I just offered to help her with Charms, since she's been having trouble with it this year, and she practically bit my head off."

"Maybe she's hormonal," James suggested, and Lily rolled her eyes. "What! It happens!"

"Maybe she just thinks all boys are stupid," she replied sarcastically.

"Maybe something happened at home that's put her in a bad mood," Peter offered, probably the most helpful of all the suggestions so far.

Everyone looked at Sirius expectantly, waiting for him to chime in with some suggestion or at least a comment that would make Remus feel better about the situation. But he just kept scratching away at the roll of parchment in front of him. James and Lily exchanged a significant look, but said nothing. After a long moment of silence, Sirius looked up, his eyebrows raised in something akin to surprise.

"What?" he asked sharply. "Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?"

Sirius snapped his textbook closed and grabbed the parchment with his essay, either not noticing or not caring that in his haste, a large drip of ink had spoiled the paper. He stalked off, ducking through the portrait hole to find some escape from the common room.

"I - What was that?" Remus asked, utterly bewildered by his friend's actions.

"He's just…" James trailed off, not sure how to finish his sentence. In truth, he knew exactly why Sirius had acted the way he did, but he wasn't sure it was really his place to say anything. James looked to Lily for guidance, an unspoken question in his eyes.

"You should talk to him about it," Lily continued softly, placing her hand on James' wrist and looking at Remus with sad eyes.

"I don't understand," Remus pressed, confused. "Did I do something?"

"Sirius is trying to deal with a lot of feelings right now," Lily answered cryptically. "He needs to talk about it, when he's ready."

"I don't -"

"Just talk to Sirius, mate," James interrupted, giving Remus a significant look.

With a heavy sigh, Remus pushed himself off the settee, and trudged out of the common room. He felt a distinct sense of dread, because whatever was going on with Sirius, it certainly couldn't be good, if it was causing him to act like that. Not to mention, he knew Sirius pretty well, and he knew it would be a fight to get him to open up and share whatever feelings were dragging him day. Still, it had to be done. Remus stalked through the castle and out onto the grounds, where he knew Sirius would be skipping rocks on the Black Lake, and braced himself for the confrontation.


	16. What Time Doesn't Heal

**HSWW, Asst 11 | Gryffindor | Thaumatology, Task 3 | Write about someone having an accident.**  
Camp Hogwarts Decorating, Golden Snitch Cabin, _[Song] Hold You Down by X Ambassadors_  
IPC #943 - _[Title] What Time Doesn't Heal_  
365 #5 - _Ache_

A/N: Whoops, I'm sorry. Honestly this is just pain and suffering with very little plot. Enjoy?

**Warnings:** character death, funeral, graphic injuries

**WC:** 2751

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**What Time Doesn't Heal**

_When there's no one to hold you, I will still hold you down_

_I will still hold you down  
_\- Hold You Down, X Ambassadors

There were five people between Lily and James. His father was to James' left, then James, Sirius, two stuffy relatives that she couldn't for the life of her remember, Remus, and then Lily. She could have stood before Remus, but he had offered to go first so she would attract less attention, and honestly Lily was okay with it because whatever second uncle was standing next to Remus smelled _incredibly _musty. Except she wasn't okay with it because there were five people between her and James and all she wanted was to hold his hand. She snuck a glance over at him, and felt her heart shatter a little bit more. He was staring straight ahead with glassy eyes, adamantly refusing to look at the ornate coffin in front of him. Lily understood. If he didn't look at it, it wasn't there. If he couldn't see her body, maybe his mom was still alive. Damn, if only she could hug him right now.

Remus elbowed her gently, a subtle reminder to face front again. It was hard to remember all these stupid rules. Especially since she had only met Euphemia twice, so she wasn't really all that sad. Well she was, it was awful losing such a tremendous public figure, but mostly she was sad because James was going through hell and there was nothing she could do about it. Lily peeked over again, and she could practically feel Remus roll his eyes. _Great job, Lily_, she internally reprimanded, channeling Remus as best she could, _I'm sure none of the billion photographers have gotten a picture of you craning your neck to stare at the bloody Prince of England at his mother's funeral. That definitely won't be plastered across tabloid covers in a week. _She sighed and tried to refocus her attention on the service that was taking place around her.

It might be easier if the stupid Abbey weren't eight hundred degrees inside. Not to mention if her heels weren't pinching her toes. People just shouldn't be allowed to die during the summer, it was far too uncomfortable. Lily mentally slapped herself for that. She had no business thinking about physical comfort right now. _Grief, Lily, grief, that's what you should be feeling right now. Nothing else_. She looked at the Queen's face, waxy and preserved. So much must have gone into making her look right for her burial, because Lily had been there, and the woman certainly hadn't died peacefully in her sleep.

o . o . o

_Lily and James had excused themselves, leaving the private Royal car of the train, ostensibly to go find some food, but really they were looking for some privacy, ironically enough. It was just that it was only the second time Lily was meeting his family, and they were only 19, so who could blame them if they wanted a little bit of alone time? Euphemia was more than a little bit heavy handed with her hinting as well. When his mother said she was getting peckish, James had hastily offered to go get something to eat for them, needing a brief moment of reprieve. And then he had wisely claimed to need Lily's help carrying everything back, and they had both departed the little compartment with their hands clasped. Which is precisely how they had ended up in an empty compartment two cars down, the privacy shades pulled all the way down as their hands groped to find skin and they pressed desperate kisses against lips and noses and jaws. Lily thought she might actually spontaneously combust from longing when a loud metal creak tore through the air and she fell crashing to the floor of the train. _

_She barely had time to comprehend that the train was tipping on its side before she was sliding to the wall, James scrabbling for purchase beside her. An awful metallic shriek was rending the air as the train continued to surge forward, its outer wall scraping along the tracks. The lights blinked off as the train lost all power, and slowly, the train ground to a halt._

"_Are you okay?" James asked her, struggling to get on his hands and knees in the sideways compartment._

"_I think so," Lily answered. Later, she would feel the sharp ache of her broken wrist, but at that moment, she felt nothing. _

_James had a cut across his forehead where he must have banged it on the seat or something, and she was sure both of them would have more than a few bruises. _

"_We need to go find my mum," he said, kicking the compartment door open and carefully dropping himself through it. He reached up to Lily, helping her as she wiggled her way through and dropped down next to him._

_Together, they quickly made their way back to the Royal Family's car, careful not to step on the compartment windows, half of which were shattered anyway. James pried the door open, kneeling on it so Lily could pass. But there was nowhere for her to go, with no floor to step on and the door on the other side of the gap firmly shut. James swore, clearly not prepared for that outcome, and quickly took stock of the situation. _

"_Go up," he grunted, nodding at the outer door, which had sprung open as part of the emergency protocol. _

_Lily nodded and grabbed onto the edge of the metal above her head, struggling to heave herself out. She kicked her feet as her stomach met the edge of the doorway, and she leaned forward so her chest was resting against the outside of the train car. Reaching up to try to grasp anything and finding one of the handholds for climbing aboard, Lily dragged herself out of the door, her muscles howling in protest as her belly scraped across the door. When she was finally out and stood atop the side of the train, she rolled her eyes slightly. Of course she'd gotten up on the wrong side. She leapt over the doorway, landing with a metallic clang on the other side, and then waited for James to join her. He managed to pull himself out in a smooth motion, seemingly with as much ease as vaulting out of a swimming pool, and if she wasn't so bloody scared right now, she would probably hate him a little bit for how graceful it was. _

_He grabbed her hand and tugged her along, their footsteps echoing heavy and hollow on the metal siding, until they reached the joint between the next two cars. James peeked through the doorway and huffed when he found the inner door to the Royal car firmly shut. Looking up though, he saw a window broken in, and immediately made a beeline for it. They could hear muffled shouts from inside the car, and James lowered himself inside, worry written in creases along his forehead, leaving Lily for the first time as he rushed to his mother. Lily tried to follow him carefully, but the broken window left a jagged, stinging cut along her palm. She hissed at it slightly before turning her attention back to James and his mom. When she turned around to face the compartment where the Queen had been sitting, her heart broke._

_James was kneeling on the window next to the compartment door, held back by one of his bodyguards, grief and anger and disbelief battling for control of his features. Inside the compartment, Queen Euphemia was collapsed against the outer window, craggy glass shards littering the ground outside. The post of a track-side sign was sticking up through the broken window, piercing the Queen's stomach. Blood dripped through the cracks in the glass and oozed slowly across her shirt, but it was the only movement anywhere on her body. No flutter of the eyelids, no twitch of the fingers. Not even the faintest rise and fall of her chests to indicate breath. She was just… still._

"_Mum," James gasped, nearly hyperventilating. "Come on, Mum, please."_

_Lily crawled over to him, reaching out to cover his hand with her own but he jerked it away sharply. She understood. She wasn't the one he wanted right now, she couldn't comfort him the right way. These were the one shoes she would never be able to fill. Even so, James leaned into her shoulder, reaching out and squeezing her hand softly before pulling away again. Just enough to let her know that he wasn't angry with her. She looked at him carefully, taking in the anguish and the way he just couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from his mother's body._

"_I'm sorry, James," she whispered, her heart sinking even further._

_His mother died and he hadn't been there. Lily wasn't sure James was ever going to forgive her for that._

o . o . o

The Garter King of Arms stepped forward, taking his place next to the Archbishop, and took a deep breath, projecting his voice throughout the Abbey for all to hear.

"Thus it hath pleased Almighty God to take out of this transitory life unto His Divine Mercy the late Most High, Most Mighty and Most Excellent Princess Euphemia, Queen Consort by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of her other Realms and Territories Queen Consort, Lady of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, Lady of the Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Thistle, Lady of the Imperial Order of the Crown of India, Grand Master and Dame Grand Cross of the Royal Victorian Order upon whom has been conferred the Royal Victorian Chain, Dame Grand Cross of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, Dame Grand Cross of the Most Venerable Order of the Hospital of St John. May God save the Queen."

"God save the Queen," a chorus replied, sincere in their wishes for their beloved monarch, and many people bowed or knelt in a show of respect.

The orchestra struck up a somber and melancholic version of the national anthem, and voices joined with the instruments. Lily peeked over at James as she sang, seeing the struggle on his face. She could tell he was desperately trying to hold back his tears and present the strong face that he had been counseled to display, but he was entirely overcome with grief. How could he not be a mess? To the country, the woman before them was a symbol, a figurehead, but to him she was so much more, and he grieved as any son would for his mother.

As the music transitioned seamlessly to some instrumental piece and the Archbishop walked around the coffin to begin the parade out of the Abbey, James pressed the heel of his hand into his brow bone and took a deep breath that shuddered through his frame. He repeated the action again, searching for composure as he prepared to face the masses of people gathered outside, lining the route. James stepped forward, taking his place next to his father, right behind the coffin, as officers of the Royal Navy stepped forward, carrying the top of the coffin from where it had been sequestered out of sight, and laying it over the Queen's body. They latched it securely shut, standing at attention. Two of the officers unfurled the Queen's personal standard, carefully draping it over the coffin like a blanket. In unison, the six officers reached down and grasped the handles of the coffin, slowly moving forward, one marching step at a time.

James flashed a look at Lily as he and his father began to move forward, following the Queen's coffin. He seemed to be searching for something in her face, some kind of strength or courage to keep going. She nodded to him, trying to encourage him and wordlessly reassure him that he could get through this. She would only be a few steps behind him.

The parade route was a mile and a half long, taking them along Whitehall, passing the houses of government along the way, and then along The Mall, with St. James' Park on their left, an imposing march through the Admiralty Arch with Buckingham Palace looming at the end. When they reached the end of their journey, the coffin was laid on a catafalque in the palace square, while the Royal Family, extended family members, and close friends made their way to the balcony.

In the privacy of the Palace, they were free to break from their strict procession order, and Lily immediately sought James out. His shoulders sagged under the weight of his grief, and Lily thought he might collapse from the strain of the day. She laced her fingers with his and he squeezed her hand as if he could extract strength from her grasp.

"It's almost over," he whispered, blinking quickly to contain the tears as they climbed the stairs together. It seemed like James was talking more to himself than to her, as if he was reminding himself to keep it together for just a little bit longer.

"James," the King said quietly, a gentle signal that it was time for their last public duty.

James stepped out onto the balcony with his father, and Lily returned to Remus' side, both of them taking their own places far off to the side. It was the final salute. The Royal Army began, conducting a spectacular gun salute in the courtyard. The Navy followed with a smaller display, their primary role as bearers of the coffin serving as their salute to the Queen instead. Finally, the Royal Air Force flew an array of jets over the palace, leaving streaks of red, white and blue, interspersed with a coal black. As the jetstreams faded in the sky, the Naval officers once again took up the coffin, this time conducting it into a waiting hearse. From there, the Queen would be driven to Windsor Castle and interred in St. George's Chapel. The guests on the balcony watched as the car departed, each privately saying their final goodbyes to the beloved queen.

As soon as the car was out of sight, James turned from the balcony, retreating to the privacy behind the palace walls, unable to take any more ceremony. His father followed a moment later, pausing only to wave farewell to his people, and then the rest of the guests on the balcony returned inside. The King patted his son's shoulder sympathetically, before moving down the stairs, still intent on being a good host. They still had a lunch for the attending dignitaries and attending guests, but Lily knew that James needed a few minutes before he would be ready for that.

She took his hand and pulled him off to the side of the room, and no sooner had they moved out of the path of the other guests than James collapsed in her arms. His head dropped to her shoulder as his hands wound around her waist in a tight hug. Lily had to stretch onto her toes so that she could reach around his neck to hug him in return, rubbing her fingers soothingly against his skin.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling his tears wet on her dress, not that she cared in the slightest about the scrap of fabric. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you for being here," James murmured, as his breathing steadied and his tears slowed. He looked up at her and Lily reached up to wipe some of the tears from his cheeks with a soft brush of her thumbs over his skin. "There'll probably be rumours after today, I -"

"I don't care," Lily interrupted, fixing him with an intensely sincere look. "None of that matters at all, James. I just want to be here for you."

The corners of his mouth twitched in the closest thing she had seen to a smile in a week, and he pulled her into another hug. After a long moment, he pressed a quick kiss to her temple and pulled back, taking her hand and turning toward the now empty grand staircase.

"Come on, everyone is probably waiting on me to start lunch."

Lily squeezed his hand and moved forward with him, glad that at least now she could stay by his side and be the comfort she knew he so desperately needed.


	17. Patched Together

**HSW&W, Assignment 11** | Gryffindor | Lineage Studies, Task 3 | _Write about someone passing down a family tradition or heirloom._

Camp Hogwarts, Capture the Flag | _[Item] Quilt_

Geek Pride | Hobbit | 2 - _Write about not realizing the importance/significance of an item._

365 #195 - _Love_

IPC #200 - _[Action] Giving a gift_

**WC:** 823

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**Patched Together**

"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley called out from the kitchen, as her youngest son was starting to say his goodbyes. It had been an exciting family dinner, with Hermione sharing her pregnancy with the whole family, and everyone had stayed at the Burrow far later than they usually did.

Ron poked his head into the kitchen, red hair playfully mussed, likely by Teddy or little James (or both).

"Don't worry, Mum, we won't leave before saying goodbye," he assured her, smiling sweetly, if not a little patronizingly. Molly was aware that most of her children thought she could be a bit overbearing, but that was her prerogative as a mother.

"It's not that, dear," she replied, drying her hands on the dish towel and folding it carefully to lay on the counter. "I want to give you something."

Ron cocked his head to the side, his expression a comical mix of confusion and curiosity. She motioned for him to follow her as she began to climb the stairs, and the soft creak of the old wood behind her told her that he had done as she wished. Molly made her way all the way up to the attic, pushing open the little hatch and hoisting letting herself into the dank and dusty space. She could hear her son groan quietly when he realized where they were going. Ignoring his small protest, she began shifting boxes until she found what she was looking for.

Molly handed a flat, wide box to her son, watching as he looked at it with apprehension. She was well aware of his disdain for hand-me-downs, but she hoped that this particular item would meet his standards. Carefully, Ron lifted the lid off, unfolding thin tissue paper to reveal a pretty quilt neatly folded inside. Molly could remember the pattern without even looking at it. Cream coloured, with turquoise, mint, and daisy yellow star-print diamonds, arranged in a fanning circle. Every now and then, a strip of pink and coral fabric outlining a diamond, and the same fabric forming the border of the quilt.

Ron frowned at the blanket as if trying to place it in his memories. He was fairly sure he couldn't remember it, but it certainly looked old and well-worn. It took a lot of effort for Ron not to wrinkle his nose at the little quilt. He knew his mother was trying to be nice and do something meaningful, but Ron hated getting all those hand-me-downs over the years, and he didn't want his child to start out her life with one. He wanted to give her all kinds of new and shiny things.

"Mum, that's really nice, but Hermione and I don't really need another blanket for the baby," he said, trying to let her down gently. "It's not even my blanket, it must be Percy's or Charlie's. We're not really quilt people though, and honestly, I think… I think it might be nicer for the baby to have a new blanket. I mean, if you wanted to make one for her, that is. You don't have to."

"Ron, dear," Molly sighed, reaching up to pat her son's cheek. "I know this isn't your blanket. This one didn't belong to any of my children. It was mine."

Ron gaped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"And my mother's, and her father's. About five generations, I believe."

"W-why me?" he stammered at last. "Why didn't you give this to Bill or Ginny or -?"

"I know that you haven't always felt as loved as your siblings," Molly sighed, wringing her hands slightly. "Your father and I should have done better. We never should have made you feel as though we loved you less for being a boy, or for being the sixth."

Ron blushed furiously, but he didn't refute her words. As an adult, he had promised himself never to lie to his mother, and to deny that he had ever felt that way… well, it just wouldn't be true.

"You've always been special in your own way," she continued, smiling as she looked at her baby boy. "So kind and loving. I know the blanket isn't new, but there's only one of it, and it will only ever belong to you."

"Mum, I…" Ron seemed to get emotional, swallowing thickly before he abandoned his sentence and started again. "Thank you."

Quite suddenly, Ron launched himself at his mother, wrapping her in a tight hug and resting his chin on her shoulder. Molly struggled not to tear up as she held her son. After a long moment, she let go of him and swatted his shoulder affectionately.

"Alright then, off with you," she laughed, sniffling slightly. "You and Hermione best get home, she'll be needing lots of rest."

"Okay, Mum," he agreed, nodding with a shy grin. Gingerly picking up the box and replacing it's lid, Ron turned to leave. "Really, thanks Mum. The baby'll love it."


	18. Not That Hard

**HSW&W Asst 11** | Gryffindor | Transfiguration, Task 1 | Write about learning something difficult.

Geek Pride | Spongebob | [Dialogue] "My leg!"

Camp Hogwarts | Capture the Flag | [Situation] An injury

365 #357 - Wound

IPC #273 - [Character] Ron Weasley

**WC:** 599

* * *

o . o . o

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**Not That Hard**

"It really shouldn't be _this _difficult," Hermione huffed, looking at the three wizards in front of her. Well, two wizards, one witch. "Merlin, you're all athletic too!"

Harry and Ron looked at each other with embarrassment tinging their cheeks, and Ginny just stared at her murderously.

"Look, muscle memory is important," Ginny hissed, "I'm sure they teach people to do this when they're five for a reason."

Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"It shouldn't be that different from being on a broomstick."

Ginny looked at the bicycle beneath her apprehensively. It didn't look or feel anything like being on a broomstick, and she highly doubted that the skills would carry over.

"Just give it a try, I promise it'll be fine," Hermione encouraged.

Harry took a deep breath, and lifted one foot onto the pedal, pushing forward with it. He'd seen just about every other kid on Privet Drive riding a bicycle in the summers (except Dudley, who probably would have crushed his if he'd tried to sit on it), but the Dursleys had never bothered teaching him. But he thought he had the basic principle down. Except that he couldn't figure out how to get his second foot of the ground. Hermione had said that if he just pedaled, he'd be able to do it, because the forward something would keep the bike balanced, but it didn't seem to be working, so he just kept moving along, pedaling with his right foot and hopping on his left. He could practically feel Hermione slapping her forehead in frustration.

Ginny fared even worse. Despite Hermione's specific instructions, the witch kept attempting to pull both her feet up at once, panicking when the bike began to wobble beneath her. Hermione marched over, grabbing Ginny's handlebars to hold her bike steady.

"Just one foot first," she instructed, and Ginny obeyed. "Now push the pedal forward. And while you're pedaling, lift the other one up now."

Harry watching with narrowed eyes. How on earth was Ginny doing that? It had to be because Hermione was holding her bike upright, there was no other way…

A pleased whoop sounded from ahead of the group, and all three turned to look. Ron was ten meters away, pedaling quickly and shouting with pride.

"What?!" Harry and Ginny swore in unison, and Hermione tried very hard not to laugh at them, focusing on her excitement for Ron instead. She knew he could do it.

And then Ron began to swerve. The front wheel of the bicycle jerked back and forth as he struggled to regain his balance, and his muscles visibly tensed. Seconds later, the bike teetered to the side, and Ron spilled off it, pulling the metal contraption down on top of himself.

"Bloody buggering hell!" he screeched, shoving the bike off himself angrily. "My leg!"

Hermione rushed over to him, concerned for her friend, and Harry and Ginny followed as soon as they could free themselves from their bikes. Ron, with his usual amount of luck, had managed to fall right on top of a rather large, rather sharp rock, leaving a scrape down most of his shin that was bleeding quite profusely. Hermione took her wand out to heal the cut, rolling her eyes a bit at Ron's dramatics. (Although in the privacy of her own mind, she would admit that it did look like it hurt quite a bit.) Harry took one look at Ron's leg and blanched, turning to Ginny for an ally.

"You know 'Mione, I'm really not sure it's so important for us to learn how to ride a bike."


	19. Something Simpler

**HSW&W Asst 11** | Gryffindor | Toxicology, Task 2 | _Write about being given a bad meal._

Geek Pride | Sherlock | _Roommate!AU_

Camp Hogwarts | Capture the Flag | _[Task] Write about a disappointment._

IPC #195 - _[Action] Eating_

365 #248 - _Proper_

**WC:** 577

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o . o . o

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**Something Simpler**

Minerva sank onto the ratty sofa, carefully pulling out the bobby pins that were holding her hair into its customary neat bun. She felt completely relieved that Poppy had offered to make dinner for once, glad for a break from the chore. Especially since it was exam week and her linguistics professor seemed intent on kicking her ass.

Although, as she thought about it, she couldn't smell anything coming from the kitchen. Which was a rather impressive feat in and of itself in their miniature apartment. Curious, Minerva stood and padded over to the little kitchen, poking her head through the doorway.

"Everything alright in here?" she asked, startling Poppy, who had been scrolling through something on her phone.

"Yeah!" Poppy replied enthusiastically. "Should be nearly done now."

"What did you make?"

"Shepherd's pie," Poppy answered proudly.

"You mean cottage pie," Minerva corrected reflexively, knowing full well that neither she nor Poppy could afford a luxury like lamb. Her roommate just rolled her eyes. "You didn't want to start with something a little bit simpler? Maybe a pasta bolognese?"

"I was craving _cottage pie_," she said, teasing the other woman. "And I know it's one of your favourites."

Minerva bit her lip so she didn't say anything discouraging. Cottage pie wasn't exactly difficult to make, but she wouldn't say it was a basic either. And Poppy had practically no cooking experience. Before university, Poppy had never cooked a single thing, and afterward she had almost always bought food from the dining halls or take out.

They waited another five minutes for the dish to finish cooking, and MInerva got out all the plates and utensils they needed in the meantime, setting them out on the counter. Poppy spooned hefty servings of the cottage pie onto plates for each of them, grabbing a fork and skipping over to the sofa. Minerva joined her there with her own plateful and steeled herself to try this meal. She knew it likely wouldn't be wonderful, but hopefully it would at least be decent.

She was not at all prepared for what she got.

Somehow, the mashed potatoes on top still seemed only semi-cooked, hard chucks interspersed in the smooth mash. The meat and gravy bottom seemed almost cool to the touch, but even worse, it was as salty as brine. Minerva tried desperately hard not to make a face as she swallowed her first bite. Poppy, on the other hand, spat hers right out.

"I don't understand!" she exclaimed. "I followed the instructions exactly!"

Minerva shrugged, trying to reassure her roommate. "They must have made a mistake in the recipe. It's okay, I can teach you how to do it properly this weekend if you want."

"Why are you so good at cooking and I'm just completely rubbish?"

"I've had lots more practice," Minerva replied, thinking fondly of nights spent cooking with her brothers in Aberdeen. "You'll get there, I promise."

"But what are we going to do tonight? This is completely inedible."

Poppy looked so disappointed with herself, and Minerva felt her heart squeeze pityingly for her friend. She felt her own modicum of disappointment though, since she would have to scrounge up something for dinner now after all.

"Come on, I'll walk you through making mac'n'cheese," she said, grabbing both their plates and carrying them straight over to the trash can. She would never tell Poppy, but she didn't think even the raccoons would want to eat this meal.


	20. Things Will Never Change For Us

**HSW&W Asst 11** | Gryffindor | Poetry Studies, Task 6 | _Write a fic in the Founders Era._

Geek Pride | Game of Thrones | _Write about betrayal._

Camp Hogwarts | Capture the Flag | _[Song] Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol_

IPC #599 - [Emotion] Betrayal

365 #336 - View

**WC:** 529

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**Things Will Never Change For Us**

_Will you just lie here and_

_just forget the world?_

Helga sniffled lightly as she curled up amidst the large, ancient tree roots. This was her safe place, hidden amongst the wood and the leaves, the banks of the lake only a few feet away. She should have known though, that she wouldn't be safe here today. Of course he knew her spot, and of course he would come looking for her.

Salazar stood above her, watching her with a concerned expression on his face. He was almost out of sight, like a shadow in the corner of your eye, but she could feel his presence, even if she couldn't see him. It was like that when you loved someone - electricity whenever they were nearby. Though today, Helga felt like she were getting pummeled by lightning.

"I'm sorry," he said, his deep bass vibrating in her chest.

"You don't have to do this," Helga replied, her voice sounding small and weak to her ears.

"I can't abandon my principles."

Salazar sank to the ground, careful not to get any closer. His amber eyes were trained on her with an intensity that made her squirm.

"But what if you're wrong?" she asked.

Helga new that it amazed their friends that she and Salazar could possibly work as a couple with such differing views, but she thought it made all the sense in the world. She made him rethink his prejudices and fears, and he helped guard her from naivete. They were well suited, even if no one else thought so.

"I wish I could stay for you," he whispered, hand twitching forward like he wanted to reach for her. "But this is no longer my place."

Helga nodded, tears pricking at her eyes for the second time that day.

"And I wish you didn't feel that this was a personal affront against you," Salazar added.

Her head snapped up at that, fixing him with her grey eyes.

"How can it not be? You're leaving because of views that are completely opposed to mine," she replied. "When you refuse to work with people who believe as I do, you reject me."

"I'm not the one refusing anything," he said, shaking his head firmly.

"You could have fought harder to stay," Helga snapped, her expression immediately softening as the words left her lips. No matter what, she never could bear to hurt him. "Please, if you're going to leave, just do it. There's nothing you can say that will lessen the pain it causes me."

A feeling of betrayal was flooding through her, though she couldn't tell what caused it. Was it Salazar and his abrupt abandonment, cutting her to her core? Godric and Rowena, for refusing to accept their friend as he was? Or was it her own heart, trying so desperately to cling to this man even as he hurt her?

Salazar seemed to hesitate for the briefest of moments, but then he nodded once, and stood. As he walked away, Salazar looked back over his shoulder once, but Helga had buried her head in her hands, not seeing the look of pain on his face that matched her own.


	21. Flavour of the Month

Godric Says | Something Funny | "When have I ever steered you wrong? / "You literally just -" / "Stop living in the past, [name]."

Capture the Flag | 10. [Food] Ice cream cone

IPC #546 - [Colour] Purple

365 #153 - Idea

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o . o . o

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**Flavour of the Month**

"Okay, so if you take a left, and then it should be the first right…" Sirius instructed as he twisted the crumpled map in his hands back and forth.

Remus rolled his eyes, not even remotely convinced that Sirius had any idea how to read a Muggle map. Sirius always boasted that he explored Muggle London at every opportunity; his favourite way of pissing off his parents was to come home wearing some new Muggle band t-shirt under his leather jacket. Their latest adventure was to try to find what Sirius had read was "the best ice cream shop in all of England", conveniently located right there in London.

He followed Sirius' directions and found himself staring down a dingy, dead end alleyway, piled high with garbage bags and a few stray cats. With a completely deadpan expression, Remus stopped abruptly, turning to face his boyfriend sourly.

"I don't think this is right," Remus snapped, snatching the map out of Sirius' hand. Sirius simply pouted in response, flashing Remus those puppy dog eyes. Huffing irritatedly, Remus began to examine the map, eventually finding out where they went wrong. "Okay, it's not far, we're only off by a couple blocks."

Remus stalked off quickly, leading the way. He didn't want to give Sirius the opportunity to walk alongside him and try to hold his hand. He just wasn't completely over the fight they'd had last week, even if he was trying to move on. Truth be told, they had been fighting a lot recently, and even though Remus was sure some of it had to do with the situation in the wizarding world, he couldn't help but compare their relationship to James and Lily, who only seemed to be growing closer despite the rising tensions in society. Maybe he and Sirius just weren't meant to be together. Remus quickly pushed aside that thought, not wanting to dwell on it today. It was supposed to be a nice day for them, just doing something normal and casual and not thinking about an impending war.

"There it is!" Sirius cried out excitedly, bounding up to Remus and kissing him quickly on the cheek. "You found it, Moony!"

Sure enough, three shops ahead of them, a pastel pink and orange storefront stood out against the others, nauseatingly cute decorations covering the windows. Every instinct told Remus that this was about to be horrible, but Sirius looked so happy…

"C'mon," he beckoned, continuing to lead his boyfriend with a soft grin on his face.

Sirius pushed open the door, which predictably triggered a little tinkling bell to announce their presence. The shop was completely empty (_Not a good sign_, Remus thought to himself) except for the freckle-faced teenager behind the counter.

"Okay, now the article said that you just have to go with whatever the special flavour is," Sirius instructed, looking at Remus with an incredibly stern expression.

"Alright," Remus agreed tentatively.

Looking around the shop, he focused on the chalkboard hanging above the counter, decorative handwriting proclaiming the Flavour of the Month to be Chocolate Ribena Crunch.

"Absolutely not," Remus amended, shaking his head adamantly. "No fucking way."

"Oh come on!" Sirius pleaded. "You have to! When have I ever steered you wrong?"

"You literally just -"

"Stop living in the past, Remus," Sirius snapped, only half playful. "Please, just do it."

"No, I'll have just a regular chocolate or something," Remus argued.

"I'm not buying anything other than the Flavour of the Month," Sirius replied, crossing his arms petulantly.

Remus opened his mouth to say something, but then snapped it shut again. Sirius had won, and of course the prat knew it. Remus couldn't afford anything fun, not even ice cream (okay, _maybe_, he could afford _ice cream_, but he was extraordinarily frugal and he wouldn't spend the money on it). He hated this imbalance in their relationship, that Sirius had to pay for anything they did, and he hated it so much when Sirius threw that back in his face. It was tempting to just call off this little outing.

Victorious, Sirius pranced over to the counter, ordering two large cones of Chocolate Ribena Crunch, whipping out his wallet and forking over far more Muggle money than he needed to. Not a moment later, Sirius returned to Remus' side, smugly holding up a cone for him.

Remus rolled his eyes before accepting the cone as they walked out of the shop and stepped onto the grey London street. He sniffed the ice cream first, wrinkling his nose at the familiarly pungent smell of Ribena. Sirius watched as Remus tentatively took a small lick of the fluorescent purple ice cream and…

Damn.

Remus almost swore out loud because the ice cream was actually not horrible. He might even call it good, surprisingly. He was going to have to pretend to hate it though, otherwise Sirius would be absolutely insufferable. Except it was too late, Sirius had already read the expression of pleasant surprise on Remus' face and he was whooping triumphantly.

"I told you!" Sirius hollered smugly, his dark curls bouncing around his temple as he jumped in the air. "I knew it! I am the ice cream master!"

Remus rolled his eyes affectionately, taking a much larger lick of the ice cream. It was quite possible he was going to have to break up with Sirius now, because there was no way he was _ever _going to let this go. Remus knew Sirius would be bringing up the victorious ice cream date for months to come. Although, he had to admit that he didn't mind the idea too much. It was almost like the Chocolate Ribena Crunch ice cream… surprisingly palatable.


	22. History Repeating

HSWW Asst 12 | Gryffindor | Women's History, Task 2 | Write about an inventor.

Camp Hogwarts | [Pairing] FredAngelina

IPC #228 | [Dialogue] "If history repeats itself, I am so getting a dinosaur."

Warnings: language, mention of kidnapping

WC: 512

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o . o . o

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**History Repeating**

Fred sat alone in the stands of the Quidditch stadium, tinkering with something in his hands. Angelina could see him from down below, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. It made her happy in an odd way, to see this side of him that only she knew. The part of him that took after his father, playing with devices and trying to make them into something new. She knew that Fred loved the inventions he made with George - fun things to keep people entertained and lift spirits high. But there was also a more serious side to him, that wanted to invent things to help the world in a different way. When he was working on those secret inventions, this is often where he came.

"Hi," Angelina greeted quietly, climbing through the stands to where he sat.

"'Lo, love," Fred answered, looking up with a smile at the sound of her voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I came looking for you," she replied, taking a seat next to him. "What are you working on?"

"It's a broom attachment," he explained, opening his hands to show a little object rather like a compass. "If I can get it to work, it would make the broom and the rider invisible, but right now I can only get it to work on the broom. I thought it might be a good means of protection during travel. There are a lot of ambushes these days…"

The air around them had grown alarmingly serious, as the weight of world events pressed into the forefront of their consciousness.

"Katie's parents have gone missing," Angelina said, reaching for her boyfriend's hand. "She just had a letter from her older sister. Lizzy went by for a visit and nobody was there. She didn't want to disturb Katie with all the details, but apparently it looked violent."

"Bloody buggering hell," Fred swore, his arm twitching as if he wanted to throw his little invention. "Why does everything have to be so fucked up?"

Fred pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, closing his eyes to the world around him, but holding tighter to Angelina like an anchor.

"It feels like history is repeating doesn't it?" Angelina sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. "The disappearances… this must have been what it was like last time…"

"Well," Fred announced, forcing his voice to take on a more boisterous quality, "if history repeats itself, I am so getting a dinosaur."

Angelina couldn't help the laugh that exploded out of her. It was quintessential Fred, to make a stupid joke in order to lighten the mood. And honestly, it was exactly what she needed.

"C'mon," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "We should go see Katie."

Fred nodded and together they stood, with Fred pocketing his invention to work on again another time. Angelina had no doubt he would get it working. If there was anything she knew about Fred, it was that every time he got news about someone dying or going missing, his resolve to help was magnified tenfold.


	23. Give Me Your Dreams

HSWW, Asst 12 | Gryffindor | Zoology, Task 6 | _Write about an overachiever._

Camp Hogwarts | [word] glorious

IPC #307 - [Character] Hannah Abbott

365 #6 - Activity

WC: 1135

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**Give Me Your Dreams (I'll Show You the Way)**

Hannah sighed, stepping out onto the green in the center of Pembroke College. It was a glorious summer day, the sun shining high and bright and warm. Even though it was July and the height of summer vacation, Hannah's mother was still teaching courses, and spent all day on campus. Hannah was used to it though, since her parents had been professors at the college her entire life. In all honesty, she loved it. Pembroke College felt like home to her, just as much as the little house on Victoria Road and the pink bedroom that she shared with her sister.

Once upon a time, Hannah had dreamt of being a student at Cambridge. She wanted to attend the May Ball and row on the River Cam. She had planned on achieving perfect grades and finishing top of her class, acing all her A levels. But then she'd gotten her Hogwarts letter and all that had changed. Gone were her dreams of Cambridge in one fell swoop.

It wasn't entirely bad, Hannah had to admit. Hogwarts itself was a challenging education, particularly when she felt at such a disadvantage compared to her classmates who had grown up in wizarding households. But Hannah had never shied from a challenge before, and Hogwarts was no different.

It often irked her, that if it weren't for Hermione Granger, Hannah would be top of the class. But of course that _irritating _Gryffindor girl had to effortlessly ace every assignment and exam. Hermione may not have known it, but she and Hannah were locked in an intense race to the top. Hannah sighed. It was no use being jealous of Hermione or angry about it. Besides, Hannah had her extracurriculars as well as all her coursework, and that was an area in which she certainly had Hermione beat.

"Are you alright, Hannah?"

She looked up to see Professor Abney standing nearby, a breeze lightly lifting strands of her blonde hair that had fallen free of her neat bun.

"I'm fine, thanks," Hannah replied, forcing a smile. "Just waiting for Mum to finish class so we can have lunch."

Professor Abney nodded and looked at the space next to Hannah on the bench.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

"Please."

The professor took a seat, regarding Hannah with a quiet curiosity for a moment before speaking with kindness and concern in her voice.

"You seem upset," she said. "Is everything alright at school?"

"Yes!" Hannah replied quickly, anxious at the idea that a professor might think she was struggling academically. "School is fine, great actually. I was just thinking about the future, I suppose. It looks very different now than it did when I was a child."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Professor Abney answered. "We all change a lot as we grow."

"I know, but I think there are some things that are changing even though I don't want them to," Hanah explained, trying to be vague enough to protect her secret. "Circumstance is stealing away my dreams, and there's nothing I can do about it."

Professor Abney was quiet for a long moment, her face scrunched up in concentration as she thought about how to answer.

"I know," she said at last, with a quick glance around the courtyard. "I know what you are. I am too."

"W-what?" Hannah stammered, taken aback by the unexpected statement.

The professor pulled her briefcase across her knees so it sat between them and opened it, tipping it so that Hannah could see inside. Hannah peered in and saw the unmistakable wooden handle of a wand.

"You're a -?"

Professor Abney cut her off with a gentle hand placed on her wrist and a nod to confirm Hannah's conclusion.

"You've been thinking about university, haven't you?" she asked, looking at Hannah knowingly. "You're sixteen, it's only natural. And I know how much you always dreamt of going to Cambridge."

Hannah nodded, still stunned by the revelation that Professor Abney, whom she had known since she was just a girl, was a witch like her.

"How did you do it?" Hannah asked after a moment, suddenly gushing all of the questions that came to mind. "Did you fake a transcript? And references? Did you decide to just leave our world behind and live as a Muggle? Does Mr. Collins know? What about Annabeth, is she like us?"

Professor Abney laughed lightly, a smile drifting across her face at Hannah's excitement and curiosity. It was so reminiscent of herself at a younger age.

"No, I haven't left that world behind," she chuckled, starting with the easier answers first. "Of course my husband knows, and I suspect Annabeth is the same as us, but really she's too young to know. As for the how of it all... there's a college here, for people like us. Morgan College. It's as elite as the rest of the university, taking only the best from all the magical schools around the world."

"Is there really?" Hannah gasped, her blue eyes widening in awe and excitement. "What's it like?"

"Well, it's a melding of Muggle and Magical academics," the professor explained, tilting her head up to the sun like a sunflower. "You choose from the same concentrations as Muggles - geography, art history, mathematics, engineering, biology - but it's a mixed courseload. The buildings exclusive to Morgan College all have the most complex enchantments, so that any Muggles who might wander in will only see or hear non-magical content and activity. There are Morgan-only social events, naturally, but there are also a lot of mixed events with the other colleges. They try to give you as typical a Cambridge experience as they can."

"That sounds amazing!" she exclaimed, practically vibrating with elation. "How do I apply?"

"Next Christmas, remind me, and I'll get an application for you," Professor Abney answered. "You'll need five references - if you want I could be one - and you'll get a conditional answer based on your O.W.L.s, your mid term standing, and your references. The final admission will depend on your N.E.W.T.s though, so mind you don't start to slack."

"I would never," Hannah promised sincerely. "Do you… do you think I can get in?"

"I wouldn't have told you about it if I didn't," she smiled, patting Hannah on the knee. With a subtle glance at her watch, the professor stood. "Your mother should be out soon. Bye Hannah."

"Bye Professor Abney!"

As the professor walked away, Hannah couldn't help but smile to herself. She had started the afternoon so downcast, unsure what goal she was working toward anymore. But now she knew, and she felt even more determined than before. She was going to be the best and brightest witch at Hogwarts. _She_ was going to go to Cambridge.


	24. Twisted Sun

A/N: This is maybe the most ridiculous thing I've ever written.

IPC #726 - [plot point] Going on holiday  
365 #244 - Preposterous

Camp Hogwarts Prompts:

Tug of War | 3. ParvatiLavender  
Archery | 16. [weather] sunny  
Dodgeball | 19. [color] Tan  
Crazy Golf | 8. Wonderfully Wicked | Write about sisters  
Cooking | 10. Salt | [dialogue] "You need to slow down."  
Baking | 7. Kiss Cookies | [action] Kissing  
Shelter Building | 14. Chunks of bark | [action] hugging  
We're Going Caving | 11. Spare batteries | [dialogue] "I thought you said this was a good idea."  
Knife Throwing | 5. Muggle!AU  
We're Going on a Nature Hunt | Easy Natural Objects | 2. Water from the stream | Write about a Trio Era character  
Animal Tracking | 3. Lion prints | Write about a strong woman  
Horse Riding | 10. Whiskey | [restriction] all characters over 21  
Fireworks Show | 14. Party Pooper | [relationship] siblings  
Giant Jenga | 8. [setting] beach  
Quilt Making | Plaid & Gingham | 1. Lavender Brown  
Scrapbooking | Themes | 4. Friends Forever  
Balloon Animals | 15. Spider | [emotion] fear  
Puppet Theater | Fairy Princess | 2. Bright Hair | [genre] friendship  
Getting Artsy | Paint Colours | 8. Onyx  
Getting Artsy | Splash Prompts | 2. [relationship] best friends  
Origami | Step 1 | [character] Pansy Parkinson  
Friendship Bracelet | Letter Beads | 2. [pairing] femslash  
Marbles | 12. [character] Parvati Patil  
Simon Says | 10. [color] Ivory

Summer Seasonal Prompts:

Days of the Year | National Seashell Day | Write about visiting the beach.  
National Anti-Boredom Month | 1. Tidy your room | Write about someone trying to avoid something.  
Unlucky Month for Weddings | 16. [word] lace  
National Ice Cream Month | 2. Bubblegum | Cheerful  
Romance Awareness Month | LavenderParvati  
Friendship Week | Parvati&Padma  
National Indoor Plant Month | 2. Chinese Evergreen | [setting] on/in/under water  
Colours | 9. Periwinkle  
Flowers | 11. Magnolia | [Dialogue] "You smell nice."  
Locations | 2. Shell Cottage  
Crystals & Gemstones | 1. Alexandrite | [scenario] a birthday  
Gryffindor Characters | 3. Lavender Brown  
Gryffindor OTPs | 14. Gen | LavenderParvati  
Build-a-Fairytale | Stage 4: the object of power | 7. A mysterious locked chest | [object] key

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o . o . o

* * *

**Twisted Sun**

They rented the little beach house - adorably named Shell Cottage - from a young couple who had decided to spend the summer in France. A girls' beach week seemed like the perfect way to celebrate Padma and Parvati's birthday, the last of them to turn 25, and have a carefree week before they were all in their "late twenties" - a true horror.

The house was quaint. A bit small, for the six girls, so they had to squeeze two to a bedroom, but none of them really minded that. Lavender and Parvati, as the only couple there, took the master bedroom, Padma shared with Daphne, and Romilda bunked with Pansy. All in all, it was a pretty cozy arrangement for the group of friends.

On the second day of their trip - and the first full day, having spent the day before driving all across England - the girls got up and immediately headed down to the beach. It was a short walk from the house, so they didn't worry about bringing lunch with them, deciding they would go back when they were hungry. It was a beautifully sunny day, perfect for sunbathing and swimming.

The girls all lay down their towels in the sand and kicked off their shoes, the other four racing off to the water while Parvati and Lavender sprawled out on their towels. Not a morning person, Lavender cozied up to her girlfriend, joining their hands and nuzzling her nose into Parvati's shoulder.

"You smell nice," Lavender mumbled happily as Parvati's deep, onyx hair tickled her cheek. "Happy birthday, 'Vati."

"Thank you, my love," Parvati grinned in reply, tilting her head to kiss Lavender's temple. "And thank you for putting this whole trip together. I know it's not exactly your idea of a birthday celebration, but it suits Padma much more than partying."

"As long as you're happy," she answered, blinking her blue eyes sincerely. "I know how much it means to you to celebrate your birthday with your sister. And besides, we went out clubbing for my birthday. Today is about you and Padma."

Parvati hummed happily and nestled in further, both girls dozing off lightly. It wasn't until the other girls returned from the water that the two woke up. They sat in a little circle for a while, catching up on each other's news and talking about what was going on in the world.

"Padma, you've been awfully quiet," Romilda said, suddenly turning her eyes toward Parvati's twin. "How are things with Anthony?"

"Everything is fine," Padma answered warily. She wasn't particularly comfortable sharing the details of her relationship with anyone, except maybe her sister.

"But how is _he?_" Romilda pressed, raising her eyebrows to try and make Padma understand the meaning beneath her words. "Satisfactory? I've always been so… curious about him."

"It's always the quiet boys who have more to be proud of than the jocks, isn't it?" Lavender commented, waggling her eyebrows as she giggled. "I heard from Lisa Turpin that Anthony ought to be _very_ proud."

Parvati flashed her girlfriend a look of profound irritation, clearly begging her to shut up. Padma's cheeks flushed a deep umber as she understood the girls' meaning. She looked to her sister for help, anything to change the topic of conversation as quickly as possible.

"I think I'd like to go for a dip in the water," Parvati said, smoothly dividing the group. "Anyone want to come with me?"

Padma nodded immediately, getting to her feet, and Lavender followed suit after another commanding look from Parvati. The three girls dashed through the sand to the cool water, splashing in. Parvati immediately dunked beneath the water, feeling its cool caress on her cheeks, and she didn't realize how flaming hot her skin had been in the sun.

"Thank you," Padma said as her sister surfaced again, her inky black hair slicked backward by the water.

"Anytime," Parvati answered, giving her sister a quick hug. "You're my twin and my best friend, I'm always on your side. And I'm sure Lavender didn't hear Lisa Turpin saying anything of the sort. You know how she can be with gossip."

"Oh no, she definitely did," Padma shrugged. "She told just about anyone who would listen in 6th form, she was just so pleased with herself for having gotten to third base. She wasn't wrong about him though."

Parvati gaped at her sister, whose cheeks were once more bright red. It was a startling confession, the likes of which she had never heard from her sister before.

"But I thought you weren't…?" Parvati asked, intensely curious even though she was normally so careful not to pry into Padma's romantic life.

"We're not, not exactly, but we…" she seemed entirely unable to form the words and share details of her relationship. "I know enough, let's leave it at that, okay?"

"Of course," Parvati agreed, casting a sly smile toward her sister.

"I think I might go back to the beach now," Padma said, looking over her shoulder to the shore and toying with the key shaped necklace she wore.

Romilda and Pansy had gone back to Shell Cottage for lunch, leaving Daphne sitting alone in the sand. She had pulled out a book and seemed perfectly content, but Padma wanted to go and keep her friend company all the same. Parvati nodded as her sister waded through the water until she made it back to the beach and watched as she flopped down on her towel next to Daphne.

Lavender had stayed in shallower water, the sea lapping around her tanned thighs. Her periwinkle lace bathing suit looked so beautiful on her, with her dirty blonde braid cascading over her shoulder. Parvati couldn't help but smile at the sight, her heartbeat stuttering and uneven because of her. Her own ivory bathing suit was far less decorative and elaborate, but she knew that it was Lavender's favourite. She always said that the way it contrasted against Parvati's dark skin was divinely sexy. The thought made Parvati smile.

"What are you grinning about?" Lavender asked, wading further into the sea so she could wrap her arms around Parvati's shoulders.

"I just keep thinking that I have the most wonderful girlfriend," Parvati gushed. "And that periwinkle is most definitely her color."

Lavender hummed happily, placing her hands on Parvati's cheeks and then moving them backwards so her thumbs grazed along her cheekbones and her fingertips could tangle in long ebony locks. Parvati's hands grabbed onto Lavender's waist, tugging her closer and crashing their lips together, hips flush as a heat built between them that had nothing to do with the sun overhead.

"Wanna get out of the sun for a little bit?" Parvati asked, giving her girlfriend a positively salacious look.

"You go," Lavender replied. "I'll be there in five minutes."

"Okay," Parvati replied, kissing her cheek and swimming back toward the shore.

She walked through the shallows, shaking the water out of her long hair. She made her way to where Padma and Daphne were splayed out in the sand, each one holding a book up to block the sun while they read. They were trading idle remarks as they did so, just light banter about the books they were reading and the day and the beach.

"Hey," Parvati said, interrupting their little chit chat. "I'm going to go get lunch if you two want to come."

"Sure," Daphne shrugged, folding down the corner of her page and closing the book.

Padma stood as well, brushing sand from her warm skin. The three girls made their way back to the house to join Pansy and Romilda, leaving Lavender to enjoy the sea just a little bit longer. They climbed up the hill, through the tall grass that nearly hid the beach from view. Just as they were emerging on the other side, a scream pierced the air, shattering Parvati's heart into pieces.

"Lavender!" she breathed, immediately turning on her heels and vaulting down the hill back toward the beach.

When her toes touched the hot, coarse sand, she could see Lavender fighting against the waves to get away from the ocean. She seemed to be hyperventilating, fear and panic gripping her.

"Lavender! What happened, what's wrong?" Parvati asked, reaching out and grabbing her girlfriend by the forearms, tugging her closer and supporting her at the same time.

"I was - and it - I almost - could have - the teeth!" Lavender stammered, her fear blinding her and making her unable to finish a thought.

"You need to slow down," Parvati said, running her hands soothingly up and down her girlfriend's arms. "Take a breath and tell me what happened."

"There was a shark!" Lavender shrieked, practically sobbing.

"That's preposterous," Padma answered from behind her sister, and Parvati turned to flash her a glare.

"Are you sure it was a shark?" Parvati asked more delicately.

"Of course I'm sure!" Lavender burst, tears building in her eyes. "It bumped me - sharks do that you know! And then I looked down and I could see it swimming away. It was going to come back, I just know it, and it was going to eat me!"

"You can't possibly know that," Padma scoffed, earning her another glare.

"Lav, maybe it just realized you're not food," Parvati said, trying to offer some reassurance.

"I thought you said this was a good idea!" Lavender cried. "A vacation - fun and sun and relaxation! But of course not, of course we'll all get eaten by sharks instead!"

Parvati tried to suppress a giggle, reminding herself that as amusing as it sounded, Lavender's distress was all too real.

"We can still enjoy our vacation," she said, reaching up to tuck a strand of Lavender's hair behind her ear. "It was pretty unlikely that we'd see one shark this week, so I think the odds of seeing another must be very low."

"I...suppose that makes sense," Lavender acquiesced.

"We can't let this ruin our trip, right?" Parvati prompted again.

Lavender straightened her shoulders and stood up taller, a defiant expression crossing her face. No, she had planned such a lovely week with her friends, and she wouldn't let a stupid shark ruin that.

"No, we're going to have a damn good time," she said, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous twinkle.


	25. The Burden in a Name

**HSWW Term 13, Assignment 1 | Gryffindor | Zoology, Task 3 | _Write about someone performing one of the following actions: lashing out in anger._**  
IPC #199 - [action] shouting  
365 #176 - Kick

Summer Seasonal Prompts:

Days of the Year | St. James the Great Day | Write about someone with a fiery temper.  
Unlucky Month for Weddings | 18. [word] marriage  
Romance Awareness Month | Hinny  
National Indoor Plant Month | 9. Spider Plant | [plot point] starting a family  
Colours | 7. Champagne  
Flowers | 10. Lady's Slippers | [dialogue] "All I want is a nice foot massage, a glass of wine, and to sleep for fifty years."  
Crystals & Gemstones | 13. Pearl | [word] loyalty  
Tarot Reading | 6. Two of Cups (reversed) | Write about disharmony in a relationship.  
Gryffindor Characters | 25. Harry Potter  
Build-a-Fairytale | Step 5: The Ending | 7. Everyone is doomed | [genre] angst

Camp Hogwarts Prompts:

Tug of War | HarryGinny  
Archery | 21. [style] past tense  
Dodgeball | 28. [word] emotional  
Crazy Golf | Hole 15: Molten Mountain | Write about someone 'exploding' in temper.  
Cooking | 19. Bread | [weather] thunderstorm  
Baking | 4. Gingersnaps | [character] Ginny Weasley  
Shelter Building | 9. Softer, Weaker Twigs | [weather] windy  
We're Going Caving | 10. Spare flashlight | [dialogue] "I don't want to look at you right now."  
Going on a Nature Hunt | Easy Natural Object | 3. A feather | Write one of your favourite characters.  
Fairy Gardens | 16. Mini stone planter | [genre] family  
Horse Riding | 28. Misty | [weather] rainy  
Fireworks Show | 12. Judas' Belt | [emotion] regret  
Quilt Making | Chevron | 2. [emotion] tired  
Scrapbooking | 14. Mini pegs | [action] cuddling  
Friendship Bracelets | Colorful Beads | 4. [dialogue] "I love you, you know. So much."  
Cat & Mouse | 7. [word] tentative  
Simon Says | 1. [action] stretching

WC: 1828

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o . o . o

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**The Burden in a Name**

Ginny walked through the door of the apartment and slammed it behind her, exhausted. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed. Except for maybe eat like eight cheeseburgers. Why did this baby only want junk food? Gwenog would kill her if she ate all this crap. Sighing, Ginny walked through the little flat to the bedroom she and Harry shared, finding him sitting on the bed folding laundry. It was such an endearing sight, and it almost made her forget how tired she was.

"Hey," he greeted, smiling at the sight of her. "There's some lasagna warming in the oven for you."

"Oh thank god," Ginny exhaled, leaning over the bed to kiss his cheek quickly before she made her way to the kitchen and grabbed the lasagna.

She warmed it up til it was piping hot with a wave of her wand and cut a large piece, placing it on a plate and grabbing a fork. Ginny brought her dinner back to the bedroom, sitting down on the bed next to him. It felt so good to put her feet up.

"Feeling okay?" he asked. "Do you need anything?"

"All I want is a nice foot massage, a glass of wine, and to sleep for fifty years," she replied, leaning her head back against their headboard and stretching her feet and arms before she started eating her dinner.

"Well, I can probably help you with one of those. You're pushing yourself too hard," Harry said, reaching over and gently massaging her thigh. "You shouldn't be working out so much, I know you want to stay in shape for next season but this is too much."

Ginny only rolled her eyes in response, and Harry sighed, instantly knowing that his words would make no difference. She knew it annoyed him, that she still spent so much time training, but she wouldn't apologize for it.

"I was thinking about names for the baby earlier," she said after a long minute. "I thought we could talk about it tonight, see if we can't decide on something."

Harry's interest was immediately piqued, and he turned to look at her with excitement bright in his eyes. He always wanted to talk about the baby, anything for the baby. She loved that, even when it annoyed her. But he was gonna be such a good dad.

Rain began to patter against the windows, a soft rhythm that filled the silence. Harry turned onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow and rubbing his hand over the swell of her belly, feeling the baby kick against his hand and smiling at the sensation.

"The thing is," Ginny continued, taking another bite of lasagna, "I can't really decide what kind of names I like. Nothing super traditional, but nothing obscure either. It might be a long hunt before we settle on something."

"Actually," Harry answered, sounding a bit hesitant, "I kind of had a thought about that."

"Do tell," she replied, snuggling deeper into the pillows behind her.

"My parents," he said simply. "I'd like to honor them."

Ginny closed her fingers tightly around her fork and clenched her jaw. She had expected this, but all the same, she hoped it wouldn't happen. As the weeks had ticked by, she kept telling herself that if he was going to suggest it, he would've done so by now.

"No," she said softly, staring at her plate resolutely.

"What?" Harry reeled, looking up at her with confusion in his beautiful green eyes. "But my parents -"

"I said no!" Ginny repeated more firmly, dropping the nearly empty plate on the bedspread and pressing her fingers to her temples.

"Ginny, I don't understand," he asked, his voice quiet. "Can you just explain to me why we shouldn't name our kid after my parents? I mean, they're my parents, and this baby is never going to know them or have anything from them or...or…"

"I know that," Ginny answered. "And I know how hard it is for you to think about your parents never getting to meet your child but...it's a lot of pressure. Your parents are famous, and this kid is already going to grow up in the limelight enough, they don't need to be hearing all the time about all the things their grandparents and their parents did and feeling like they're never going to live up to the reputation. He should have his own name, not some impossible standard to live up to. There's a reason you don't see a bunch of kids in the wizarding world named Merlin."

"But my parents are heroes!" Harry protested. "Our child should feel honoured to have the same name as them!"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Harry! Your parents weren't the only heroes in this war!" Ginny exploded, pushing herself off the bed with difficulty and running her fingers through her hair. She closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath. "And you're not the only one in this relationship who lost family."

"Ginny…" he sighed, but she didn't turn around, too angry still.

Frustrated and annoyed, Ginny stripped off her sweaty clothes and turned the shower on, barely waiting for the water to warm up before she stepped in.

"I didn't forget," Harry said, poking his head into the bathroom. "I just figured you wouldn't want to name the baby after, I thought George…"

"You don't get to decide what I want," Ginny hissed, steam filling the air between them, fueled by her anger. "And I don't believe for a second that your thought process was that deep, all you thought about was your precious parents and how they sacrificed themselves for you."

"They did!"

"I don't care!" she spat, throwing up her arms and sending droplets of water flying through the air. "I know that they saved your life and they're your heroes, but honestly Harry, how much do you even know about what they did in the first war? Maybe they never saved anyone else, maybe they killed Death Eaters. Just because they're your heroes, doesn't mean they single- handedly saved the wizarding world."

"Well it is because of them that Voldemort was gone the first time!" Harry countered, his own temper starting to rise.

"Not just them!" Ginny shouted. "There were a whole host of witches and wizards in the Order the first time, all of them fighting to save people, including, by the way, Mum's brothers, who were both murdered too. And I never got to meet them either, and I know what they did, and they saved a lot of people. So don't you dare invalidate their sacrifice by saying that your parents were the only heroes of this war."

Harry was silent and Ginny had to resist the urge to look over and see if he was still standing there. Thunder cracked over the sound of the shower running, and she saw the accompanying flash of lightning in the mirror.

Ginny turned the shower off and turned to face the rest of the bathroom, finding it empty. She stepped out, water sliding down her legs to pool in the plush mat on the floor. Sighing heavily, Ginny dried herself off and grabbed the champagne coloured nightgown she'd been wearing to bed lately. Normally, she wasn't entirely fond of nightgowns, but sleeping had gotten so uncomfortable and the silk just felt so cool against her skin. Stepping back out to the bedroom, she found Harry looking out the window as the lightning ripped through the sky and the wind battered the sides of their apartment.

Seeing him standing there, Ginny was almost tempted to forgive him and let her anger slip away, as easily as the water sliding down the shower drain.

"I just think I owe them my loyalty and my respect, Gin, I need you to understand that," Harry said, turning to look at her with tired eyes. "Look, I know you're emotional right now, so just take some time to think about it, okay?"

"I'm emotional?" Ginny fumed, seething with rage. "EMOTIONAL?! I don't want to look at you right now!"

She stomped over to the bed, yanking the duvet back violently and crawling under it, rolling onto her side so her back was to Harry.

"Ginny, I didn't mean it like that," he sighed, and she could feel the mattress dip as he sat down next to her. "I just want you to take some more time to think this through."

"I don't need more time, Harry!" she raged. "Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I don't know what I want, and I swear on Merlin's grave that I am not naming my child after anyone's parents!"

"Great, that's just great," Harry hissed, flopping backward on the bed and crossing his arms over his chest. "First you don't want to to marry me, now this, I -"

"Not this again!" Ginny huffed in reply. "I told you, Harry, marriage shouldn't be about having a baby together, it should be about us! I don't want you to propose to me out of duty or whatever, and that's why I said no. When we're ready, when we've hit that point just the two of us, with nothing to do with the baby, then we can talk about getting married, but that's not what it was when you asked me!"

"I am there, Ginny, I didn't just ask you because of the baby," he replied. "I want you, and only you. Of course it's not just about duty."

Ginny was quiet. She didn't know what to say to that. The mattress dipped again and Ginny could feel the warmth from Harry's body on her back, one of his hands hovering a breath away from her shoulder.

"I love you, you know. So much," he whispered, his voice tentative and full of tenderness.

Ginny felt regret wash over her, and she turned over - with some difficulty - so that she was facing Harry, their faces only a few inches apart. She reached out and took one of his hands in hers, while his other one wrapped around her waist.

"I know you do," she whispered. "I love you too."

Harry smiled, and it made her heart squeeze happily. Ginny cuddled closer to him, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder, and Harry pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"I will marry you," she said, looking up at Harry so she could see the happiness on his face. "But only if you drop the name thing."

Harry opened his mouth like he wanted to protest, but he seemed to think better of it, settling back into the happy feeling that had begun to spread at the start of her answer.

"Middle name," he said, trying for one last bargain.

Ginny thought carefully for a moment, weighing her options and also how much she wanted to fight about it.

"Fine," she agreed after a minute. "You've got a deal."


	26. In Flames

Oracle | Rita's Gossip Column | _Seamus Finnigan's Explosive Temper Drives Him to Commit Triple Homicide  
_IPC | 937 - [Title] In Flames  
365 | 116 - Foul  
August Monthly: Mix It Up | DeanSeamus

Summer Seasonal Prompts

Romance Awareness Month | DeanSeamus  
Colours | 10. Sandy brown  
Gryffindor Characters | 10. Seamus Finnigan  
Gryffindor OTPs | 15. Gen | DeanSeamus  
Build-a-Fairytale | Step 3: The villain… | 4. ...is ready for a fight | [dialogue] "Trust me, you don't want to mess with [pronoun]."

Writing Club: August

Character Appreciation | 24. [plot point] Write about someone getting teased  
Time Machine | 10. [word] Treachery

**WC: 566**

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o . o . o

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**In Flames**

"Honestly, I thought it was only people like Harry who had to deal with this nonsense," Seamus scoffed, throwing down their copy of The Daily Prophet.

"Are you saying we're B-list celebrities?" Dean replied, faking offense.

"If that, darling," Seamus answered. "What've we ever done to be famous other than befriend Harry? And even then, it's not like we were best mates."

"Well, there was that whole Battle of Hogwarts thing," Dean teased, reaching out to smooth his thumb over the scar across his boyfriend's temple. "Not to mention I am a pretty fantastic artist."

"Of course you are. But honestly, look at this! It doesn't even sound like me!"

Dean picked up the paper and took a gander at the headline, suppressing a laugh with great difficulty. _Seamus Finnigan's Explosive Temper Drives Him to Commit Triple Homicide. _

"You're right, it sounds nothing like you," he snorted, unable to contain his amusement completely. "No one in their right mind would ever think you have a fiery temper."

"Hilarious," Seamus replied, rolling his eyes. "Did you even read who I'm supposed to have murdered?"

Dean shook his head and turned his attention back to the article, his eyes scanning the text quickly.

_Finnigan, 25, was seen arguing outside the Leaky Cauldron with none other than former roommate Neville Longbottom. Onlookers described the fight as "passionate" and "intense", and it seemed almost like a lovers' tryst gone awry. Oliver Wood, ex-Gryffindor Quidditch captain and star keeper for Puddlemere United, attempted to break up the fight, only to find himself entangled in it - with quite unfortunate results. Furious, Finnigan unleashed a stream of spells that did significant damage to surrounding shops and took the lives of both Longbottom and Wood. Tom Smith, long-time barman at the Leaky Cauldron and innocent bystander, was also killed in the crossfire._

Dean looked up from the article and put his hand on his boyfriend's shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"It's bloody ridiculous," he asserted. "No one will believe it, firefly, I promise. They couldn't possibly, it's so obviously rubbish."

"Mark my words, I will get Rita back for this treachery," Seamus fumed, stomping into their kitchen.

"Trust me, you don't want to mess with her," Dean cautioned, remembering a particularly nasty article a few years earlier about Ginny's so-called 'wanton' dating history. "She's quite foul when she wants to be."

"Well I won't just let her spread this bile without consequences," he seethed. "It's unjust."

"Seamus," Dean asserted, placing his hands on either side of his boyfriend's face, fingertips playing with the short sandy brown curls at his temples, "listen to me. Tomorrow, Neville is going to show up to work like any other day, and in two days Oliver is going to help Puddlemere beat the pants off the Tornadoes, and the Leaky Cauldron will probably be swamped with visitors this weekend. And everyone will see that Rita made this nonsense up, and the story will be completely laughed off."

Seamus grunted, not yet ready to concede and let go of his anger.

"I promise," Dean said, leaning forward to pepper kisses across Seamus' forehead and freckled cheeks, "nobody thinks you're a homicidal maniac. Least of all me."

Seamus smiled at the light jest, Dean's teasing and kisses always able to put him in a better mood immediately.

"I suppose you're right," he acquiesced, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist and snuggling closer. "It's all just nonsense, nothing that could do any harm."


End file.
